Moving On
by Gimpy1
Summary: Life at the mansion is finally moving forward and gradution is at hand. The only problem is instead of looking towards her future, Rogue is being threatened by her past. ScottRogue, LoganRogue
1. Growing Up

Moving On

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chapter one

By Gimpy

A content Scott made his way into the large auditorium where an after party was being held. The day had started off kind of hectic, gowns getting misplaced, found then misplaced again. The guest speaker had been almost an hour late and the valedictorian had to be replaced because of some very angry butterflies. But things were moving smoothly now and Scott was glad for it.

Coming to a stop before the entrance he read the banner hanging over the door and his smile grew.

"Welcome Graduating Class of 2003/2004!"

It was finally happening, a major year at the mansion was coming to an end and summer vacation was lingering on the horizon. Not to mention how many students would be heading off to colleges or universities. Some wouldn't due to the form of their mutations but the class load was about to get that much smaller. A gift from god if you asked any of the teachers.

To Scott however, this day meant more then a few students moving into adulthood, it meant the school as a whole was finally moving on. After all that had gone on this year: the Liberty Island fiasco, the Alkali Lake nightmare, the death of his wife, after all that life was finally recovering. It had taken months for most to get over it all but none more so then him, the x-men and for reasons unknown to any of them, Rogue. Not even Logan could explain why the young woman was affected so deeply and she'd never elaborated on that. Fact was in the end the last few to truly grieve the woman he'd loved had been Rogue, Logan and himself and he had to admit having her with him had made things that much easier.

No one could deny that a bond had formed between him and the young elusive woman. He'd spent so many nights with her sharing all the wonderful moments he'd had with his wife. He'd even cried in her arms when he needed to and he appreciated every moment of her comfort, often times wishing she'd share her own feelings so he could return the favor. Even after the months spent together Scott still barely knew a thing about her. He didn't think anyone did, aside from Logan. Was he jealous of that? Sometimes, but Scott reminded himself that now was not the time to dwell on that, today was their day, her day.

Taking in the festivities again Scott grumbled under his breath. Were it not for her he more then likely would have skipped this part all together. Still wished he could. The ceremony, he'd attended like the good leader he was but had shunned the idea of the after party. He was glad though that she'd managed to get him here. Especially at the sight that greeted him as he took another look around. He almost burst out laughing when he spotted a very uncomfortable, very irritated Logan perched against the wall behind the DJ's booth. Shaking his, Scott made his way through the crowd to the other side, stopping only to smile and congratulate his own students as he passed them. Coming to a stance before the scowling man Scott finally laughed out loud.

"She conned you into this too huh?" Scott quipped, an amused look on his face despite the glare coming from Logan.

"You honestly think I'd be here other wise?" It was rhetorical but both men knew a half grin was lingering beneath the angered flair.

Leaning against a spot next to his fellow victim Scott answered the question. "Honestly? You'd probably cut off your own…" Scott coughed and both men stared down at the center of Logan's pants. "Before you willingly came to this."

"Heh, a little extreme but the sentiment is right on." Crossing his large burly arms even further across his chest Logan stared into the crowd looking for the cruel angle that had brought him this discomfort. "How does she manage to get us to do these things?"

"I have no idea, I think it's that innocent face she gets, the one we can both see right through but can't seem to get away from. It's potent." Scott mused, crossing his own arms in the same fashion. Some how over the past few months the two men had been able to put aside their differences, in its place forming a certain understanding and respect. Their common interest now was the welfare of one vibrant and sassy girl who could make them both jump at a single command.

"Where is that girl anyway? I haven't seen her since she tossed her cap thing." The frustrated grumble in Logan's voice subsided as he grazed the room with his eyes. The streak of white was no where to be seen.

"I haven't a clue, just got here myself. She's probably here," Scott replied, roaming the crowd himself. "Somewhere…"

Out of the corner of his eye Scott saw Logan uncharacteristically flinch then try to appear as small as possible. To his knowledge there was only one person who could do that to the callused man and Scott found himself doing the exact same. Spiked heals clicked against the hard wood floors, yellow banana colored heals. Both men prayed for them to walk away, and cursed when they stopped before them.

A moments dread passed before the woman spoke. "Aww wolf-man, you sure do know how ta disappoint a chica. I was hopin for a tux, then again anything you put your sexy ass into makes me happy," Jubilee's buoyant voice was like freshly painted nails carving into a chalkboard to both men. Logan forced himself to stare at the oriental spitfire, his lips forming a pensive line. "Course it'd be better stark white - if ya know what I mean."

The demure Kitty standing next to her polar opposite squealed at the insinuation coming from her friend. "Jubes!" A blush formed on her face, darkening as Jubilee winked at the older man then walked away laughing.

Kitty lingered behind and smiled apologetically at both men. "Sorry Mr. Summers, Mr. Logan… she's well… heh yeah… Sorry!" Kitty darted away as fast as she could, the blush still raging across her porcelain cheeks.

Both men waited for a moment before stiffening their backs. A smirk threatened to burst onto Scott's face, a fact not lost on Logan.

"Don't start with me," Logan scolded the man, which simply earned him a deep chuckle.

"I think I'm going to miss you're fan club…" Scott quipped.

"Shut it One-Eye," the ornery man grounded out.

"I wonder if they'll mail you from college…" Scott couldn't stop himself now. It was just too good of a ribbing to pass up.

"One-Eye…" Logan seethed.

"I can just see it now… Bundles of fan mail all addressed to you clogging up the front door, coming by trunk load and each one starting off with… Dear Wolfy, Here's a picture of me in my sexy playboy underwear, can I have one of you in you're tighty whities?" To add to his teasing Scott took on an all too familiar Asian tone to his voice.

Almost to the boiling point Logan jabbed back as best he could, "Yeah? And what about the Summer's Fan Club. I bet they'll all wanna have picture of your tiny little…" Logan mimicked Scott's earlier action, coughing then looking to the center of his pants. Before Scott could respond Logan added, "You can use mine if you want… don't want to disappoint the fan base."

"Why you… You stupid… you…" Scott shook his head trying to find the right words but falling short. "Below the belt, way below the belt." Scott watched Logan lean back against the wall with a smug look on his face and couldn't let that stay there. "Course below the belt on men is where your expertise lies…"

"That's it…" Logan growled, ready to pounce on the taller man. Scott let out a laugh and lightheartedly fought back as Logan wrapped an arm around his neck in a chokehold. The squabbling men came to an abrupt halt when a familiar and absolutely friendly laugh washed over them. Peering up from their hunched over positions both men slowly took in their interrupter. Emerald heals encased polished toes and shimmering straps gracefully climbed slender tanned legs before disappeared into an equally shimmering and flowing shirt. At the waste the fabric apexed and transformed into a paler shade of the green, emphasizing the thin and taunt stomach that lay behind it. Firm but demure breasts were framed by lace that trailed up to delicate shoulders then slipped off and traveled the length of this beauty's long shapely arms. Every spec of skin was covered except the tips of this woman's elegant shoulders and up. But what entranced them the most was the soft curls of white and auburn hair that seemingly framed her brightly-lit face.

A radiant smile greeted them when they finally reached the top. Both men quickly stood up, Scott brushing his suit down and Logan just smiling nonchalantly. Rogue shook her head softly causing more wisps of hair to escape from her messy bun.

"Rogue," "Marie," they spoke at the same time.

Letting out another soft giggle, she drawled softly, "Ah do love seein' mah two favorite guys getting' along."

"You, you look… well," Scott stumbled and Logan picked it up.

"I think he means stunningly beautiful."

Shying away from their appraising looks both men caught the frown form on her face. "Ah dun know, Ah feel kinda frumpy."

"Frumpy?" Logan asked, a wrinkle forming in his brow.

"Yah know, not in the least bit elegant but not quiet ugly either. Ah mean look at this thing…" she pouted, turning around to give them a full view. "Ah'm covered from head ta toe in what may as well be a burlap sack an Ah sure as hell don't feel sexy. Ah mean this ain't exactly the dress Ah'd pictured mahself wearing for mah graduation party."

Frowning at the girl Logan reassured her in his Logan-ish way, "Ya don't always need cleavage to be sexy, kid."

"For once the barbarian is right, crudely stated, but right. You look amazing and completely elegant." Scott added.

Smiling despite her self, Rogue looked down at herself. "Ah guess y'all are right." Looking back up with a hint of mischief in her eyes she joked, "Least Ah know Ah've got cleavage even though no one else can see it."

"And it had better stay that way." Logan half growled.

Laughing softly Rogue took a moment to size up her nights in shinning armor. Catching sight of Scott's hazardous tie she laughed even louder. Stepping into him she teased him with her eyes. "For a man who's at least ten years my senior yah'd think yah'd know how ta tie a tie." Her agile, gloved hands went to work fixing the messy cloth.

Scott's smile faded for a moment as thoughts of his Jean floated to the forefront of his mind. "I've never really had to do it myself…"

Sighing softly, Rogue patted down the now fixed tie. "Ah guess Ah'll just have ta teach yah how." The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment, conveying as much comfort and understanding as they could in only a matter of moments. Giving him another tap on the chest, Rogue broke the sour moment and turned to Logan. She took in his all to familiar jeans, huge belt buckle, red plaid button up shirt with the white tank top underneath and his leather jacket on top of that. "As for you ya big lug… Ah was hoping for at least a tie," she chided, stepping towards him.

"Yeah well you only asked that I come, never said I had to dress up." Logan rebelled, though he knew he'd done it only to get a rise out of her, a pastime he'd never tired of.

Indignant, Rogue stared at him in mock shock, hands firmly on her hips. "Ah do believe it was implied Logan."

Logan simply shrugged his shoulder and replied, "I've never been good at subtle." Reaching out for her hand, he pulled her into a bear hug and whispered, "Congrats kid."

Rogue couldn't help but roll her eyes as she hugged him back. "Ah think you can stop calling me kid now. This is mah graduation party."

"You think but I don't."

Laughing again she pulled back. "No Ah don't suppose you do." Sighing again, Rogue turned and drank in the décor. Bright reds, candy sweet pinks and translucent whites adorned every piece of furniture the decorators could get their hands on. Streamers and see-through drapes dangled from pillars and home made trestles placed at the entrances. Each table was set with white and pink roses as centerpieces, the tablecloths shimmered in glossy white sparkles and at the back of each chair a long piece of fabric seemingly glided from one side to the other. All in all it reminded Rogue of a Barbie playhouse. She half expected to find Barbie herself waltzing into the room. "Ah don't get why the Professor let Kitty and her plastic Barbie doll friends do this… it's… well Ah've had nightmares just as bad as this."

"It is nauseating." Scott admitted. A thought quickly popped into his head and he acted before Logan could. "I do believe you promised me at least half your dance card."

Rogue's nose scrunched at the thought. "Ah dun know, there's so many people, what if Ah accidentally bump into someone."

"Sorry, not gonna work." Scott didn't give her another chance to argue, gently taking her hand and leading her out onto the crowded dance floor. He laughed at the pleading look she sent Logan but was grateful when the other man simply shrugged helplessly. "Don't worry I'll keep you safe."

Allowing her former teacher to pull her into his arms smoothly she dejected, "It's not me Ah worry about."

Shaking his head, Scott wrapped a loose hand around her waist. "Just enjoy your graduation and don't laugh at me when I step on your feet." That made her giggle and relax into his hold.

The couple glided along the floor smoothly, a romantic melody spurring them on. Rogue allowed herself to feel ever so slightly normal and awed at Scott's innate ability to do that for her, a trait he shared with Logan and no one else. Through out the entire ceremony she'd been dreading this moment, this whole party but now maybe it wouldn't be so bad to sit back and enjoy it. At the moment she had every thing she could ask for. Her boys were getting along and getting on with their lives. She may not be heading off to college but the Professor had offered to give her college level courses on the side and much to the disapproval of Scott and Logan, her x-men training was in a week. Ororo and the new doctor, Hank something, were helping her to understand the limitations of her mutation and perhaps even find a way to control it. Everything was falling into place and that scared her. Whenever anything got good for her they almost always tended to coming crashing down. A fact of life she knew all too well but for now she'd enjoy the simple act of dancing, laughing and having fun with her makeshift family.

The couple finished the song and the next two after that then Logan cut in for a few, surprising everyone but her. The night went off without a hitch, everyone danced and even started up a kareoke contest that Jubilee won of course. As a standard of tradition the punch was spiked, replaced then spiked again and through out it all Rogue just danced with her boys. When the last hour of the night rolled around she found her way to Logan's side, a smirk on her face. She'd been able to snag a couple of glasses of the spiked punches before they were totted off by the teachers and was feeling mighty giddy. Something Logan noticed right away but chose to ignore.

Pressing her own back into the wall next to him she caught sight of Scott dancing closely with a very graceful Ororo and smiled. It quickly fell when she remembered why she'd come over. Dropping her head onto Logan's arm she mumbled, "Ah'm sorry yah can't remember your own graduation…"

Her words caught Logan by surprise though he should have expected her to see through him. "What makes you think I care about that?" He asked, trying to save as much face as he could.

"Ah know you Logan," she whispered back softly, titling her up to stare into his eyes. "An Ah see it in your eyes."

Logan let out a breath of uncertainty, "Yeah well it's fine, alright. You should be enjoying yourself." He looped an arm around her shoulders and half hugged her, resting his head atop hers. "Not worrying about me."

Curling her fingers around his arm she sighed, "Ah can't help it, ah worry about both of yah."

Logan knew she was talking about himself and Scott and couldn't help the jealous tingle in the back of his mind. He ignored it like he had been all night when he'd been forced to watch them dance and laugh together. It didn't mean anything, or so he hoped it didn't. Letting silence lap over them, neither one spoke, content to just stand in each other's arms. Feeling her eyes starting to droop, Rogue sprang to life, quickly pulling out of his arms and attempting to force him towards the floor. "Dance with me?"

Logan grumbled at the slender girl. "We have… dozens of times. I do still have a semi reputation to uphold." He tried to fight it but knew he was doomed when her sultry bottom lip jutted out in the cutest pout he'd ever seen.

"Please?" she pleaded tilting her head to the side. "Pretty, pretty, please?" Slowly she closed in on him, trailing her fingers up his chest, an innocent look on her face the entire time.

Logan's shoulders dropped in defeat. "Fi-iiine!" Logan practically yelped as she forcefully pulled him off the wall. She didn't wait for his consent to fully leave his lips having seen it in his eyes long before he spoke. Dragging the man to the exact center of the floor she wrapped one arm around his neck and looped her gloved fingers through his. Shaking his head and smiling down at her, he pulled her tightly to him and tried to keep a straight face on. "I'm going to have to kill you, you know."

"Oh please, yah've been dancin with me all night. Ah think your reputation is pretty well shattered."

"Doesn't mean I won't be getting you back," he countered jokingly into her ear.

"Ooh," she crowed, shivering in fear. "Ah'm so scared of the big bad wolf man."

"You should be." Logan growled, sounding more like a cat rather then a wolf. Intentionally of course, simply to gain the laugh that she muffled in his chest.

Gliding along softly, Rogue snuggled deeper into him with a sigh. "Ah don't think Ah want this night ta end."

Logan wordlessly agreed by dominantly pulling her closer. Their pace slowed to an even lull from side to side and in that moment Logan swore that he'd do everything he could to make her as happy as she had been tonight. It was a sight that was a long time coming and neither Scott nor himself wanted to lose that.

"Hey chica!" Out of nowhere Jubilee's overpowering voice broke the spell that had befallen the two. Releasing their holds simultaneously the two stared at the yellow glad girl. Logan glared but Rogue simply smiled which Jubes returned. "Mind if I cut in?"

Logan's eyes widened and his stomach dropped at the idea of having to dance with the overt girl. Rogue caught the look and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Looking back and forth between the two she stepped out of Logan's arms. "Sure, why not?"

Logan's eyes widened even further and he mentally swore he was going to kill her. A though he conveyed with an evil glare.

Jubilee didn't notice the interaction and surprised both Rogue and Logan when she stepped in front of Rogue and offered her, her hand. "Care to dance milady?" Covering her mouth with her free hand Rogue nodded with a goofy grin on her face. Smiling broadly, Jubilee turned to Logan with an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry big fella, but ya gotta learn how ta share sometime."

Logan was just glad it wasn't him, relieved actually so without thought he stepped back and let the girls have their fun. "See at the wall." He called to Rogue as Jubilee started to dance them away.

Rogue could barely contain her laughter but went along with Jubes. "Who's leading? Me or you?"

Laughing right along with her friend Jubes shrugged, "You look far more elegant tonight then me chica so I guess I should."

"Aww, thanks… We could take turns yah know."

Jubilee just shook her head at the idea and slowly led the dance. Rogue could tell there was something on her friend's mind and had an idea as to what it was. Giving Jubilee's shoulder a squeeze to get her attention she gave voice to her concerns, "Yah know yah don't have to do this right?"

Confused Jubilee stared at Rogue for a moment before questioning her, "And what am I doing exactly?"

Shooting her a disbelieving but understanding look Rogue turned them so they were both looking towards the object that had once been her crush and was now this girls. "Him…"

Jubilee tried to feign stupidity again but failed. "I'm sorry Mar… I tried… I really did."

Despite herself, Rogue smiled at the given nickname as well as at the stupidity of this girl. "Jube-Jube, girl, Bobby an Ah are so over, have been for months. Yah have free reign here. He likes you, yah're smitten with him. Go for it before Ah kick your tiny Asian ass."

Jubilee's features light up like a Christmas tree. "Really? Cause we're going to the same school in the fall an we'll be in some of the same classes and… you really think he likes me?"

Giggling Rogue let go of her friend and gave her a little shove in Bobby's direction. "He adores yah! Now go before I magically decide ta have him back."

Jubilee moved to do as she was told but stopped short. Turning back to her friend, she pulled Rogue into a hug. "You're unbelievable, ya know that? If it were me I never would have let anyone go after any of my ex's."

Hesitating for a moment Rogue reassured the girl, "Just be glad Ah'm not you."

Letting out a relieved sigh Jubes' smile grew even more, "I am, trust me, I am. Thank you."

"Ya, Ya. Go, now!" Jubilee did, racing off to ask Bobby to dance with her. Mentally Rogue was berating herself, trying to keep her heart from slamming out of her chest. She had to get out of here, now. Searching the exits for the closest she chose the one that led out onto the balcony and started to make her way there. Before she got two feet she felt a tug on her arm and was spun around, slamming into a broad chest she didn't recognize. Pushing against the muscular wall she snapped her eyes up to see a face she'd never seen but there was something about it. She couldn't grasp what that was.

He was a handsome man in every sense, tall and dark with shaggy hair and a slight stubble along his jaw with smoky deep hazel eyes that bored right through her. Everything about him called to her and without a word he led her into his arms. A shiver ran through her at the feel of his arms around her. It wasn't sexual but undoubtedly familial.

His thin lips parted and what came out shocked Rogue's already racing mind. "Hello my dear."

That voice, those eyes, this hold, all of it was familiar but different. She searched her mind for some kind of hint anything but lost her breath when the figure crushed her to his chest.

"Congratulations on graduating… two years later then you should have."

"What?!" she snapped in a heated whisper while struggling against his hold. "Ah don't know what yah're talking about now let me go."

His hold didn't loosen for a single moment, it in fact tightened tremendously. "Shut up and don't say a word."

Rogue closed her mouth, biting back a cry of pain. Fear coursed through her, preventing her from saying a thing.

"Just smile and dance, act like everything's fine, great in fact," he demanded and Rogue followed his order, stiffly moving with him. He waited a moment before talking again, "They don't know do they?" he asked.

Struggling to breathe she stared up at him, her own eyes pleading into his dark beedy ones. A flash spread through them and she grew even more confused.

"Do they know how old you really are? Or how long you were actually on your own? Do they even know the real you?" The man sneered at Rogue as tears formed in her shinning green pools.

"Why are yah…" she started but cut off when the hold he had on her hand tightened beyond all reason.

"No talking, just listening, got that." Rogue nodded, going stiff again. "Good girl." He paused before speaking again. "I'm happy for you… don't give me that look, I mean it. You've made quite the life for yourself here. Of course it's all based on layer upon layer of lies."

Rogue listened, barely able to breathe and unwilling to make eye contact. Instead she scoured the crowd for Logan or Scott, desperate for one of them to spot her.

"What do you think they'd do if they knew? Knew whom you worked for before 'he' found you? What you did, how many people you hurt?" The man poured as much venom he could muster into his voice.

"Ah never… ah!" she tried to defend herself and was rewarded with a jab to the stomach.

"Be silent." He snapped twisting then around, making sure no one had heard her soft cry. "You never what? Did it? Or wanted to? Either way you and I both know you're wrong. You never had to do what you did. There was always a choice and you were never forced into anything." Calming slightly and returning to the dance he caught sight of her face. "Smile Marie and stop crying."

She tried to smile but couldn't stop the tears. Trembles over took her, shaking her to the core like a leaf ready to fall from the branch.

"You want to know what I want?" he murmured into her ear, causing even more trembles along with a nod. "Alright, tomorrow around three, meet me here," he directed, slowly placing a note into her hand. "If you don't show I'll tell them all everything and you'll find yourself being run out of here like you were nine years ago." He gave Rogue a moment to digest what he said then asked, "You understand? Do you?"

Nodding her head in jerky movements Rogue sputtered a timid, "Yes."

Giving her a charming smile he pulled back. Taking her crushed hand in his he laid a gentle kiss on the throbbing limb. "Good. I'll be seeing you." With that he turned and left.

All Rogue could do was stand there and watch him go. Every breath she took was a struggle and when he'd finally vanished out the patio door she let out a heart wrenching gasp before collapsing to the ground. She didn't even noticed the concerned voice of Jubilee or feel the arms of both Scott and Logan as they picked her off the floor and led her away. All she knew in that moment was the danger all the people she'd come to love were in. Danger she was the cause of.

_TBC but only if you want it to be..._


	2. Unanswered Questions

Moving On - chapter 2

By Gimpy

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Slowly the last drop of coffee escaped and fell into the pot, a gurgling sound following then sputtering to an end. A large burly hand covered in blue fur grabbed the pot and started to pour the bitter liquid into a small mug. Leaving it black as night, Hank turned and started towards his patient. She shivered again, a clear sign she needed the warmth he was about to offer.

"Here, drink this," Hank ordered, offering the mug nestled in his large furry hands.

Peering up at her giant blue doctor, Rogue stopped her shivering hands from rubbing her bare arms and smiled shyly. Bringing her knees to her chest, she murmured a timid thank you then took the offering and rested it softly on her knee to keep it from spilling. Blowing on the burning liquid, she tried to calm her nerves long enough to take a sip.

Sighing, Hank reached for another thin sheet and spread it along her bare shoulders, earning himself another smile. "I apologize about the chill. I will return your clothes to you soon."

"Thanks," Rogue murmured, still shivering despite herself. Taking a breath, she tried to hold steady long enough to drink the caffeine but couldn't "Ah'm sorry Ah can't…"

"It's alright," Hank reassured her, taking the cup and placing it on the tray next to the table. Pulling up a chair, he stared up at the girl who was swiftly becoming his friend. "Tell me what happened."

An embarrassed blush burned her cheeks and she tried to hide it behind her hair. "Ah hadn't eaten all day that's all, Ah just got a lil dizzy," she muttered with a sigh. "Can Ah go now? Ah feel fine." And physically she did but her mind was racing and she couldn't stop from staring at her clothes pilled on the other side of the room. That note and the secrets it held was laying over there and all she wanted to do was grab it and run to her room. At least there she could think instead of shiver.

"You were crying when they brought you to me, Marie," Hank said smoothly and reached for one of her hands, never fully touching it. "And your hand is bruised. Tell me what happened."

Rogue stiffened for a moment and Hank could tell she was hiding something from him. "Ah fell, that's how Ah hurt mah hand and that's why Ah was cryin… its nothin more than that." She cringed inside at the disappointed look on his face but didn't let it show. This was something she had to figure out on her own and she couldn't let anyone else get involved.

"Alright…" Hank pushed back from the gurney. "Physically you are extremely healthy…"

Rogue cut him off impatiently, "So Ah can go?"

Smiling at her Hank continued, "I'd like to take a few more blood samples first, just to be on the safe side."

"Then Ah can go?"

Chuckling Hank moved to gather the tray he'd prepared before. "Yes, then you are free to leave."

"Good," she muttered, running her sheet between her hands impatiently. She frowned at the sight of three vials on his tray but held out her arm. This had become routine to her, an action she'd done too many times to truly count. Waiting silently as the last vial was filled she asked, "Done?"

Hank's concern grew at her skittishness but there was something in her eyes that demanded he let it go. "Yes… I'll grab your clothes for you."

"No yah don't have to, Ah can get it mahself," Rogue protested but he simply waved her off. Slipping to the floor and wrapping the blanket around her almost completely naked form, she raced towards the large doctor and her clothes. She slid to his side and tried to grab her things from his hand before he could find the slip of paper nestled there.

"What are you…" Hank started but stopped when he saw a small square piece of paper glide to the floor.

All oxygen left her lungs as she watched him lean down and pick it up. It called to her, stark white and sitting in his large blue hands. Her fear intensified and coursed through her veins like spicy liquor when he opened the folded paper.

Reading it over Hank, stared up at her with uncertainty. "Coleman and 106th Street, La Café Croix? That's a restaurant." A coy smile formed on his furry face. "Do you have a date?"

"What! No," Rogue snapped.

Hanks smirk grew. "You have a date."

"Ah do not!"

"Sure you don't," he chastised.

Becoming indignant, she let out a breath of frustration and grabbed the paper from his hands along with her clothes. "Ah don't."

Nodding his head in mock understanding, he gave her arm a comforting squeeze before whispering, "Your secret is safe with me Marie." With that he turned and left her to dress.

"But Ah…" she called after his retreating form but it was no use. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of relief at not having to lie to Hank. Shaking it off, she dressed quickly and raced to her room, somehow managing to completely miss both Logan and Scott. There wasn't much chance of her being able to lie to either man. The friendship she had with them went too deep and she knew without a doubt they'd see right through her.

Bursting into her room, she slammed the door and fell against it. Fingering the note in her hand nervously, she replayed the night before in her mind. Whoever that man was, whatever he knew, she had to find out and her only answers started with this small slip of paper. Staring at the note, she read the words over in her head. Coleman and 106th… Coleman and 106th… La Café Croix… She'd never heard of it, didn't even know where it was.

Tossing the note onto her bed, she quickly striped out of her gown and pulled on her robe. Tying the belt into a knot, she moved to her desk and began searching wildly through each and every drawer. Everything her good hand found went flying, nothing safe from her grasp. Reaching the back of her last drawer she found her map and tore it out. Dropping to the floor beside her bed she spread it out over her covers. With the note in one hand, she went through the streets systematically until she found 106th. Gliding her finger down its path, the word Coleman popped out at her.

"Coleman and 106th… Upper East Side!" she cursed, realizing to simply get to the Upper East Side of New York from Salem road took over three hours. Resting her head in her good hand she stared at her bad one. The palm of her hand and the back were completely blue and purple, a promise of what would come if she refused to go. The sight made her want to cry and scream at the same time. For the tenth time she tried to understand all of this, tried to grasp it. In the course of one night everything she'd accomplished had been threatened. She'd worked too long and too hard to get where she was and she wasn't going to let some prick take that from her.

Checking her alarm clock, she sighed. There was barely enough time for a shower before she had to leave. How she was going to get there she didn't know, but she had to, no matter what. Tossing the map onto the floor, she grabbed the note and slipped into the bathroom.

* * *

"Mar, you in there?" Jubilee called through Rogue's thick wooden door. When she didn't get an answer she knocked forcefully. "Mar!" She tried again and still didn't get an answer. "Alright chica, if you're doing something indecent ya better stop 'cause I'm coming in!" she shouted, opening the door slowly. What she found was not what she had expected. Papers, books and clothes were strewn across the normally clean floor, desk and bed. She let out a low whistle and mused, "Hello and welcome to Kansas, tornado capital of the world…"

Making her way carefully through the mess, Jubilee paused in the center of the room. "Girl you've seriously got to invest in a maid," she joked softly. Slowly surveying the disastrous room, an unnerved feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Moving to the bathroom she turned on the light then quickly turned it off, unsettled by her friend's disappearance as well as the state of her room.

Standing in the doorway, she glanced down the halls hoping to find Rogue coming back. The frown that had etched itself into her face vanished, replaced by a large and utterly goofy grin. Her deep hazel eyes slowly devoured the tall and well-built boy as he veered towards her. Clad in the standard basketball uniform consisting of shorts and a muscle shirt, she felt her body go warm at the sight of his well-muscled arms. Stepping towards him, her hand found its way to one of his arms on its own.

"Hey Bobby," she cooed in an unintentionally husky voice.

The sandy haired boy smiled at the gentle touch and took her hand in his. "Hi yourself. How are you this morning?"

At his words, the frown returned and she remembered her missing friend. "Not that great, actually."

Brushing his thumb over her hand, Bobby's own grin faltered. "What's wrong? Did Rogue get pissed with you for… you know… us?" He asked, motioning his free hand back and forth between them.

Grabbing his moving hand, she shook her head adamantly. "No, no. She was surprisingly okay with us, even threatened to beat my Asian ass if I didn't act on what I felt."

"Then what is it?"

Glancing back at the opened door and the mess it barely contained, she murmured, "Rogue… she's not in her room," she paused at the confused look on his face. "If it was just that, I wouldn't be worried but after last night… plus her room's a complete disaster area… I don't know, it's got me a little worried, beyond worried actually, swiftly moving towards panicky."

Chuckling softly, he brought his hand up to her face and brushed at a stray hair. "What if I told you that she's fine."

Leaning into the gentle touch, she smiled, "I'd have to ask how you know?"

Sliding into her, he touched his forehead to hers. "I saw her like five minutes ago"

Staring up at his soft blue eyes so close to her own concerned ones, she asked, "Really? Did she look okay?"

"Come to think of it she seemed… preoccupied… when I said hi she didn't even look at me, just kept on walking until she disappeared into the garage."

Snapping back, breaking the link that had been forming between herself and Bobby, she stared at him earnestly. "The garage?" He nodded. "See now I've hit panicky… I mean a girl doesn't just break down at her prom, end up in the infirmary and then take off the next…"

"MR. DRAKE!" The barreling, almost deafening, bark completely cut off Jubilee's budding rant and caused Bobby to go stark white.

Turning stiffly, the boy swallowed soundly at the sight of an enraged Logan marching in his direction. He contemplated escape but realized this man was quicker then he looked. Not that his feet would have co-operated, they were now officially rooted in place, fear stalling them. Looking to Jubilee for help, she just shrugged and gave an apologetic smile. Facing the fierce man, Bobby prayed to live past this—whatever this was.

Logan came to an abrupt halt before the scared boy, a smug but evil grin on his face. "Where are you supposed to be?"

Stuttering and shifting his gaze everywhere but on the man before him, Bobby stammered out, "In my room showering?"

Logan's eyebrow rose and his nostrils flared, the tart swell of sweat overpowering his sensitive nose. "Try again, kid." At the blank look Logan received, he snapped, "What did I tell you last night after the little stunt you and your geek friends pulled with the punch?"

Jubilee's face lit up as she gasped out, "Dude, that was you?"

"Uh…" Looking back and forth between his new girlfriend and the man that could bring about his death he stuttered, "Report to the gym and clean it?"

"Damn straight!" Logan snarled, stepping aside to allow the boy to pass. Before he let the poor thing go, Logan added with as much distaste as he could manage. "Your little pals have been in there since six! It's almost noon now so guess what you get to do?"

Daring to look up at the angered man, Bobby let out a soft, "The rest?"

"Give the boy a prize…" Logan quipped. When Bobby didn't move, he glared at the sandy blonde boy, then shouted, "Move! Now!"

Snapping out of the stun Logan had put him in, Bobby kissed Jubilee on the cheek then ran off. The kiss didn't go unnoticed by Logan who stared at Jubilee, dumbfounded.

She stood her ground with a slight smile on her face. "That was too much fun for you wasn't it? Who knew a man could get a hard on from yelling at someone…" she mused, the light in her eyes brightening when Logan groaned and turned to leave. "Ya know," she called out, following him down the corridor. "Rogue and Bobby broke up, so ya don't need to give me that look. It was a joint decision, 'sides Rogue's more than fine about me and Bobby."

"I didn't say a thing," he said with a shrug and continued on.

"Hey Wolf-man!" When his back tensed, she sighed. Grabbing his arm and spinning him around, she almost laughed at the stiff expression on his face. "Don't worry big boy, I'm not here to comment on your more than adequate ass." Everything about her turned serious, catching Logan's attention and keeping it. "I just wanna talk, seriously for a moment."

"What about?" Logan asked, crossing his large arms across his chest, the uncertain look never faltering from his face.

"Rogue." She paused, gauging his reaction, catching the slight beat that his heart skipped. "I don't know where the girl went but she's not in her room and Bobby saw her headed towards the garage. I was hoping you could… find out if she's okay. I hate to admit it, but the girl talks to you more then she does me."

Shaking his head, Logan patted the girl on the shoulder and muttered, "Doc McCoy let her out this morning with a clean bill of health. She's fine."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "There's more to a girl than the physical." He waved her off and she muttered, "I'm not gonna argue this with you, just talk to the girl when she gets back from wherever the hell it is she ran off to." Crossing her arms, she headed back to Rogue's room to clean it up a bit.

Slowly she grabbed at the clothes sprawled on the bed and hung them on her arm. Gathering as many as she could, she turned to place them in the closet and noticed him still standing behind her.

"Where do you think she went?" Logan asked, leaning against the frame.

Placing the clothes on the back of a chair, Jubilee went through the pile, placing each one on a hanger and then in the closet. "I don't know, I don't even know what happened to her last night. I just hope that it's nothing serious… the girl has enough on her plate to deal with…"

"Yeah…" Neither one spoke as he watched her continue to clean up the mess. Sighing, he turned to leave.

Pausing for a moment she watched him go, letting out a low whistle. "I do love to watch you walk away."

"I heard that!"

"Who said you weren't supposed to!"

* * *

Rogue could barely breathe her heart and mind were racing so fast. She'd taken Logan's truck without permission and she knew when she got back there'd be hell to pay. The lack of a tracking device had been too much of a temptation to ignore. But after three and a half hours in the truck without air conditioning, and with windows that were permanently stuck in the up position, she was starting to regret the decision. The heat only added to the nerves threatening to take her over and without a radio she found herself stuck with just her mind for company. A mind drowning in questions and fears but most of all anger, at the situation and at herself for letting it happen.

As she drew closer to her destination, she went over the mission statement she'd given herself. First she had to find out what he knew or thought he knew, second find out what he wanted and third… well she hadn't gotten that far.

Catching sight of the bright neon sign with 'La Café Croix' in bold letters, she sighed. Her questions were about to get answers and she wasn't sure she wanted them.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

To say that I'm astounded would be an understatement. All these reviews have just made my week, especially considering my 18th birthday is on sunday. I'm sorry that this took 9 days, see the thing is I'm in the process of getting ready to build an addition to my house, a new room for me :) Which means that the last 5 days I've been working nonstop. There hasn't been much time to write and when ever I start I get booted off the computer. The reviews though... wow... 17 of them in 9 days - I normally can't get that from 6 chapters let alone one. Bare with me right now there's alot to comment on...

To...

Lynn1415 : Thank you for being the first and I'm glad I have your attention - I just hope I can keep it.

FlameDancer77 : To be honest with you I don't know who the mysterious stranger is but if it was Mystique that'd make for quite the interesting story wouldn't it? Sorry I took so long for this hopefully it lives up to your expectations.

Freelancer88 : Thank you for the vote of confidence :) I wasn't sure if I should but now I do.

Scott/My Melly : I am so surprised at how much you love this - it just makes me wanna kiss you cause it means sooo much to me coming from you. And we all know how truly small you are down there winks

Hotaru170 : I'm glad you like - I know you'd hoped for sooner but I've been busy - hopefully the next chapter won't take as long

imagica : I'll see what I can do about the W/R thing - no promises though - this thing seems to have a mind of it's own.

Stray : I love the word great - its such a... well great word Thank you for the review - sadly the guys going to remain a mystery for a while. I know I'm evil.

dudditso : thank you for thinking so :) it's good to know that it's not all for waste.

The Mishy : Hello Mishy . I can't wait till out grad either - its the real world I won't mind igorning for a little while longer. Thank you for the review and I'll see you this weekend - I think it's Sunday but I'll let you know.

Aquarius Angel : lol You'll soon find out - I just wanna prolongue it all for a while cause I'm well evil lol.

balabalooza : Aww you are soo incredible sweet! I don't know about being a great writer but thank you. As for the mistakes - my beta and my best friend was visiting her sister so she couldn't go it for me. She did this part so hopefully theres even less. Thank you soooo much for the great review

April : I am?? Awww tears up I don't think the words thank you are enough but I use them anyway. It's an amazing compliment which I am greatful for, thank you.

Shelbecat : The elusive beta is back and I'm loving it :) I know, I know angst - it's my think - but then again so is humor which I'm trying to incorperate more. Hopefully it works :) Love you!

Shy Butterfly : I hope this is okay as a second chapter and as for the Rogue/Scott - you'll hvae to wait and see - I have no set outline for this. Who knows though its a 50/50 chance

RAchel : I'm so happy that you enjoyed it and I hope to post sooner so you can know what happens. Thank you soo much for the review.

Jupiterhime : Love the sign name - its unique and seriously cool. Thanks for the review and for letting me know I should continue - I always get so unsure of myself and its reviews like this that just help me know that I'm not doing this for nothing, thanks for that.

Whitewaters : last but definetly not least - I think your review got to me most because of what you said. I'm honored that my fic is your first endevor into the movie fandom of this site and that you liked it so much. If you want I could suggest some even better fics to read by even better authors. Thank you so much for your review and for reading - maybe i've converted you? winks lol


	3. Jaded Memories

Moving On - Chapter 3

By Gimpy

* * *

Confusion, anger, neuroticism, fear, uncertainty. That was all she could feel, one after another raging through her like a wild hurricane. It devoured her every thought, consumed her and all she could do was sit in the over heated truck and stare. Her green eyes grazed every feature of the small French-inspired café, drawing a mental image in her mind. The building had become Pandora's box, potentially holding every detail of her life and if opened, her indiscretions, her faults, her mistakes would come tumbling out to be mocked, scrutinized, picked apart and judged.

And with the truths it could reveal she feared that Logan and Scott would realize the girl they had saved wasn't worthy of saving. The girl they befriended wasn't worthy of their companionship. Worst of all she was afraid that the love they felt for her would vanish and she'd be the little girl she once was, lost, alone, left to starve on the streets where she knew she belonged. It was a nightmare that had plagued her before and now it was becoming all too real.

She couldn't lose them. The life, the mansion and all it entailed she could live without but her boys, her knights in shinning armor, her avengers, she couldn't grasp a life without them. Didn't want to. Determination flowed through her and she became hell bent on never letting that part of her life go.

Escaping the safety of Logan's truck, she made her way to the café, her eyes constantly searching for the face of her demon. The café was small, provincial, holding as much of France's charm as possible for a New York/French café. It was crude, blatantly trying to mimic something refined or cultured, which it obviously wasn't. The bright neon sign was a testament to that.

Standing in the open doorway, her steely gaze glided over the tables searching for the familiar yet strange face from last night. A hand found her arm and she tensed, spiraling around ready to pounce. The face she found was timid, shy and almost fearful. A tiny man almost two full inches shorter then her stared up at her with deep cloudy eyes glazed and beady. The look he gave seemed to question her existence and the pensive line he drew with his lips commanded that she agree. When he spoke, his voice scratched and clawed at her nerves, shredding them.

"You Marie?"

Unable to speak, muted by how powerful his presence was she nodded. His eyes shifted, no longer questioning but accepting and grateful. It was like her affirmation was a weight that lifted from his conscience. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a silver encased cell phone and placed it securely in her gloved hand.

"This is yours," he whispered.

Confused by the small phone in her hand she shook her head. "This… this isn't mine," she stated, lifting her head only to find him vanishing into the back of the café. Taking a step, the crowd formed around her, preventing her from following the small man. "This isn't mine!" she called again but the man had already slipped from view.

Running a frustrated hand through her hair she held the phone at arms length, turning it over, trying to find a clue. She let out a startled gasp when the small case started to vibrate in her cold hand. Struggling to slow her quickened pulse, she examined the display and let out a curse when she found the number blocked. She hesitated to answer its persistent rumble, finally snapping it open and pressing the tiny green icon. Bringing it to her ear cautiously, she let out a shaky, "Hello?"

There was a pause on the other line before a deep masculine voice filtered through the speakers. "You look beautiful today Marie, the dress was classy, elegant, but I like this better."

Freezing at the familiar voice, she spun around, her constant surveillance of the café taking on new life.

Laughter followed her action. "Really Marie. You honestly think I'd just be sitting there waiting for you to suck the life from me? The jean jacket's a nice touch by the way, emphasized your more than generous bust."

"How the hell would yah know that if yah weren't here yah pig?" Rogue snapped, spinning around again, gaining a few wayward glances from the other customers.

"I'm clairvoyant…" he spat sarcastically. "It's called new age technology. The camera's Marie." He amended when a deep line of confusion wrinkled her forehead. "Honestly…"

Her green eyes immediately scoured the corners of the café finding a lone camera near the back of the restaurant.

"Hi," the man whispered mockingly. "You are stunning."

Glaring at the camera she spat, "Shove it!"

"No need to get hostile -"

"No need! Yah ruined mah grad, yah bruised mah hand, mah ego! An now yah wanna ruin mah life. No need ta get hostile my ass! Quit the cloak an dagger crap or Ah'm outta here!" The threat was more then valid and she took at step towards the door, her hardened eyes never leaving the camera. She didn't care that more bystanders were staring at her like she'd grown a set of antennas and fangs.

The voice on the other end of the line remained calm, coldly calling her bluff. "Do and you know what happens. Of course if you really want me to ruin your life, go ahead, leave. I'm in the mood to do a little damage."

Rogue tensed, weighing the consequences, realizing the risk wasn't worth the loss. Forcing back defeated tears, she took back her step, moving deeper into the café. She could almost see the smug smile on the other side of the line.

"Good girl." He demoralized her with his tone, diminishing her into a scared pathetic child with no control, no rights. "Now let the nice waiter seat you."

As if on his command, a handsome waiter appeared before her and offered her a seat. She questioned him with her eyes, glancing up at the camera then back. The hairs on the back of her neck were starting to stand on end and she could feel her skin start to crawl. She followed the waiter even though everything inside her told her to run, that there was a chance the others would understand, that there was a danger here far greater then her fear of discovery. But the fear of discovery was winning out, breaking her into submission. Taking the offered seat, the waiter asked her if she wanted anything.

"Thank you but no, Ah'm fine," she muttered, the fire almost lost.

"Come on Marie, order something, you won't have to pay, it's already been taken care of." The voice demanded.

Shaking her head she ground into the phone, "What do yah own this place?"

A deep and seedy laugh assaulted her ears. "You could say that. Now order something, whatever you want, it's yours."

The anger from before spiked at his demeanor. "Ah don't want anything. Not from you!"

"Order something," the voice commanded, all humor evaporating, leaving no room for argument.

The chill laced around his words scared Rogue but she tried not to let it show as she conceded. Forcing a fake smile on her face, she looked up at the waiter. "Ah'll have a coffee, black." Her words were smug as well as her face.

"Come on Marie, where's the fun in a coffee? If I were you I would have asked for the most expensive thing they have," the voice mused, the ever-present sarcasm still bordering everything he said.

"Ya well yah're not me, Ah'm not you an _stop_ callin me Marie," she snarled, waving the waiter away.

"What should I call you then?"

"Mah name, Rogue."

"But your name isn't Rogue my dear, it's Marie, Marie D'Ancanto."

His words shattered her, causing a rippling fear to cascade around her. "How… how do yah know mah last name? No one knows mah last name, not even Logan."

"I know everything about you that's worth knowing. I know that you were born in Meridian Mississippi, to William and Mary Ann D'Ancanto, on October 4th '84 not August 4th '86 like you told your friends. That you were eleven not sixteen when you ran away from home, or should I say _forced_ _out_ of your home after you kissed the boy and made him cry. A young man named Cody I believe, not David."

She couldn't bear it anymore, his voice tearing at her as she bit back. "Please! Yah could have figured all that out from the newspapers back home! It proves nothin' except that yah can read, congratulations."

"Drink your coffee Marie, maybe it'll calm your nerves."

"Mah coffee?" To her utter surprise a mug of coffee had been placed before her, a fact she hadn't even noticed. "Ah don't want mah coffee."

"And I don't like to waste my money."

"Ah don't care what yah like or don't like, okay? An' your pathetic attempts at playin 007 is getting tired," she muttered, cringing at the cramp forming in her arm, forcing her to switch hands. She waited for him to respond to he disdain in her voice or comment on the pain in her arm, something, but instead a long silence followed. All she could hear was the sound of his light breathing, calm inhales and barely audible exhales that followed an obscure pattern. The neurotic side to her personality piped up, speeding her already rapid pulse and forcing her to think that maybe she'd gone to far.

When he finally spoke again, her entire body jolted, a shiver running down her arms. "You want proof?"

Collecting her jumbled nerves, she softly said, "Yah, Ah want proof."

"Alright then, reach under your chair."

"Mah chair?"

"If you need more then my word, reach and you'll get your proof."

Taking an apprehensive look around, Rogue did as he asked, leaning forward and slipping her hand underneath her chair. Her slender fingers grazed the wooden seat, gliding right into what felt like paper. Slipping her finger beneath the bulging item, she tore it from the bottom of her seat.

"An envelope? How Sydney Bristow of yah," she quipped, letting the manila envelope drop onto the table.

"Open it, Marie. You said you wanted proof, there it is, sitting right in front of you. Now open it." His voice took on a stern tone, angered by her callous words.

Staring at the tanned and bubbled envelope, she reached for it, ignoring her full name sitting viciously on the front. Turning it over, she hesitated before tearing the end completely off. In one agonizingly slow motion, she tilted the package until the object inside slid out and clattered onto the tabletop. What she saw made her stomach churn, her throat go raw and she swore that there was the taste of battery acid in her mouth. Covering her mouth, her eyes fell shut, squeezing together so tightly she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to open them again. She tried to breathe but her chest was too tight, too weighted down. Tears formed and the only control she had was to open her eyes and stare down at the offending object.

Jade beads shinned against the white tablecloth, a thin gold chain glimmered in the soft light from the large windows. It glistened, its familiar shape mocking her. A large jade stone lined in gold sat at the center of the necklace, surrounded by five jades on each side. As she took it in, a tear slipped from her guarded eyes and she visibly choked as a forgotten memory forced itself on her.

----------A slender and tall woman slipped into the abandoned house, her eyes nervously jumping around the rooms as she went. Her long and agile fingers clenched and unclenched around the small bag she carried in her trembling hands. The fear that radiated from her was visible, like a horrid deformity, becoming the only thing you noticed. Not even her enchanting beauty outweighed its force.

The wind howled, thrashing the trees into the chipping windows and degenerating walls. The grating sound filled the room, engulfing it, overpowering it and adding to the absolute fear this woman felt. The aged floor creaked underneath her light footfalls, announcing her presence long before she had the chance to do so herself. A thunderous crack startled her, a scream shattered the tight hold she had on her lips.

Coming to a quivering stance in the center of the crumbling building, holding the bag even tighter, she waited for the rumble of thunder to stop before calling out into the darkness.

"Sugah?" she whispered harshly, desiring to be heard within the confines of the room. Taking another step, the floor cracked, forcing her to retreat. Forcing back tears of desperation, she called again, her voice a shadow of before. "Sugah? Ah know yah're in here. It's just me baby, just me. Yah can come out."

She stilled herself, the air growing stale and smoldering, stinking of mold and vomit. A disgusted shudder rolled through her and she called again for her baby. A creaking followed her words, scaring her yet at the same time relieving her. A door opened, its stripping paint cracking and falling to the rotted floor. A tear-streaked face, plump, swollen, and slightly bruised around the eye, poked around the edge, shattered eyes peering into the dark eerie room.

The little girl completely covered in clothes from head to toe except her face, stepped further into the room, hope shinning in her eyes. "Mamma?" she squeaked.

The woman fell to her knees, arms stretching out to encompass the little form that rushed into her arms. "Ah'm here baby, Ah'm here."

Tiny arms clung to the older woman, searching for comfort and acceptance. More tears formed and trickled down reddened cheeks. Neither one cared about the danger the action held, unwilling to let it affect them. "Ah'm sorry! Ah'm so sorry Mamma!" she cried, gripping the woman as tight as her little arms would allow.

"Ah know," she cooed, pulling her daughter closer to her. "Ah know." Brushing down her daughter's silk hair, careful not to touch her swollen face, the woman's own tears grew in force.

"Is… is Cody okay?" The timid voice barely made it past the woman's blouse the child's face was buried in.

Cringing, the woman pulled back and stared at her daughter. "No baby, he's uh… he's hurt bad."

"How bad?" The girl's tiny lip quivered.

"Bad, he's in a coma sugah. That means he's asleep an he will be for a very long time." She tried to explain to the child but found she couldn't.

"Is Papa still mad?" The girl asked, barely holding together.

The woman had to fight back the urge to brush the girl's tears away, not wanting to hurt her daughters already blackened face or risk her own health. "Yah neva did do what yah Papa told yah ta do, neva acted like the proper lady, could neva keep yahself clean." She mused softly almost to herself. "Yah always got yahself into trouble an' yah always aggravated him…"

"Ah neva meant to, Ah didn't!" The girl cried, just wanting her mother to believe her.

Running her long fingers down her daughter's back, she pulled the girl to her. "Ah know but yah fatha… he could neva quite figure out what ta do with yah… an' now… Baby do yah know what happened yesterday?"

"Cody kissed me… an' then keeled ova. Ah thought Ah'd killed em… Ah got all these mem'ries that weren't mine an'… an'… this voice… Ah heard it in mah head… what does that mean Mamma? What am Ah?"

Closing her eyes, the woman hid behind them as she asked the hard question. "Baby, yah know what a mutant is don't yah?"

The girl nodded timidly, curling into her mother deeper, hating the words she spoke and wanting to drown them out. "Papa hates em, thinks they don't deserve ta live, Ah hear what he says bout them ta his friends… Am Ah a mutant Mamma? Is Papa gonna kill me?"

The woman could barely catch the sob from escaping her lips. Holding her daughter tighter she tried to keep herself from breaking, from shattering before her only child. "Yeah baby, yah are a mutant an' yah fatha… he's crazed, he hit you cause o' that an' now… Oh baby he's comin afta yah." Shaking her head viciously she pulled back from her daughter, picking up the forgotten bag off the floor. "But Ah am not gonna let that man hurt mah baby. Here take this, Ah packed as much as Ah could, there's gloves to protect yahself, enough food for a week but baby, yah are gonna have ta get wise, find food somehow on your own."

Confusion littered the girl's face as she tried to understand what her Mother meant. "Ah don't understand! What do Ah need protection for? Ah got you!"

Another piece of the woman's heart tore off at her words. "No baby, Ah gotta stay here, Ah gotta care for your fatha cause heaven only knows what he'll do if we both vanished. If it's just you then yah might be okay, Ah could convince him not ta follow, but if Ah go… there would be nowhere ta hide from him."

"We could do it! We could!" The girl protested, desperate to stay with her mother.

"No!" the woman snapped. Pulling completely away from the girl, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a velvet jewelry case. "Ah want ya ta take this, keep it with yah an' sell it when ya run out o' food."

Staring at the case, the girl wept harder and tried to find her mother's arms again. The woman refused, forcing herself to stand away from her child. "Mamma?" The hurt on her daughter's face nearly killed her but she held fast. Handing the case to her daughter, she waited for her open it before she turned to leave. "MAMMA! WAIT!" cried the girl, chasing out after her. Grabbing her mother's hand, the girl tried to make her take it back. "Ah'll go for you an' only you but Ah can't take this! This is grandma's she gave it ta yah when she died, Ah can't take it, Ah can't!"

The woman's reddened hazel eyes peered down at the case, the jade stones and gold chain reflecting in her eyes. She remembered the night her mother died, remembered her mother making her swear to never lose it, that it meant more to her then anything. The woman wanted to take it back but looking at her own flesh and blood she realized that her little girl meant more to her then her own mother's dying wish. Forcing it back into the girl's small hands, she tried to smile past her tears.

"Grandma would have wanted yah ta have this sugah, Ah want yah ta have this. So take it for me 'cause Ah won't be able ta live with mahself if yah don't. Yah'll need it girl, believe me." Dropping to her knees one last time, she pulled the straps of the bag onto both of the girl's shoulders and turned her around. Opening the bag she dropped the case in and quickly closed it. Turning her back around, she peered into her daughter's eyes for what she knew would be the last time. "Yah have ta run and yah have ta run now! Yah can neva come back, he won't let yah… just 'member that Ah will always love yah, always."

"Ah love yah too!" The girl cried, tossing herself into her mother's arms one last time. It lasted for a moment but it felt like a lifetime and when she pulled back she never got to say another word before her mother slipped out the door, leaving the child broken and alone.----------

A state that would remain as constant as her own regret at selling the necklace that now lay before her. Placing a trembling hand on the largest jade bead, Rogue became oblivious to the tears coursing down her cheeks. She could barely find the strength to lift the bead, overpowered by the memory she'd purged from her mind. But she had to be sure, had to know for certain that this was the one and not a fake her blackmailer was using to break her. In one drawn out moment she turned the stone until it was completely on its front. She had to bite her lip to contain her cries when she found what she was looking for. Smack dab in the center of the stone was a small 'M M', letters she'd carved to remember her mother by, letters no one but the pawn shop she'd sold it to knew about.

Her teetering world came crashing down in that moment of realization. This wasn't a game anymore, it was more than that, it was real now. So incredibly real that she could barely breathe past the choking sobs she was holding back. When his voice finally sounded, she nearly hurled the phone along with the necklace through the window.

"Do you see now, my dear? I told you, I know everything about you that's worth knowing and more." The condescending tone in his voice, the malice, the hate, every shred of indecency towards her was gone.

Struggling with her pounding chest, she muttered through her clenched teeth, "What do yah want from me-e?"

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, his tone still lacking in hatred.

"No," she spat, a bitterness soaking into her words.

"Good," he crowed, that one word encompassing every hateful emotion he could possibly summon, a complete opposite to the tone he'd had barely a second ago. "That's all I wanted today. Now stand up!" When Rogue hesitated he snapped. "Stand!"

Perched dangerously close to falling apart, Rogue could barely stand on her own two legs but forced herself away from the table. Unable to take her eyes off the chain her hand itched to just grab it and run.

"Leave it!" The voice snarled like a beast verging on the kill.

A sob coated her throat at his words, the action of leaving the jade necklace almost killing her. "Please…" she begged, her hand hovering over the object. "Please… Ah-Ah can't…"

"You will walk away." His voice destroyed what was left of her soul.

Whimpering soundly, she dragged herself away, her movements jerky and uncontrolled. It was as if the necklace itself was binding her to the table, holding her back. With every step she could literally feel her heart collapsing into the jagged shards.

When she reached the door, the malicious voice spoke again, a maniacal laugh lingering on his every word. "Leave the cell on the window sill and don't go back in, it's already gone."

Spinning around sharply she felt the last piece of her go when she couldn't find the gold glimmering in the sunlight. She slammed the phone onto the sill and it exploded into small unfixable pieces. The walk to Logan's truck passed in a blur as that memory rolled over and over in her mind along with his angered words. The gravity of the mess she now found herself in finally hit and when she silently climbed into the driver's seat the tears became unstoppable. Instead of self-pitying tears, this salt was angered and frustrated and broken. Her arms moved on their own and before she realized it, her fists were crashing down on the dash. Her lips parted and angered curses and screams flowed without thought. Over and over she hit the dash and yelled, unable to stop herself even when the bruises started to form under her white gloves. The one hand already covered in bruises started to crack, scarlet beads seeping into the satin fabric.

When the pain finally reached her mind, she welcomed it. It's physical nature drowning out the emotional rampage taking her over. Folding into a ball, she remained that way, never really knowing how much time was passing or truly caring. When her tears dried, she simply sat and stared until she couldn't keep them open anymore. Ignoring her pained limbs, she started the truck and headed back to the mansion, a blanket of darkened night descending long before she arrived.

Blindly she pulled into the garage, knowing that most of the house was asleep. Killing the engine, she had to bite her lip to keep from breaking down again. Forcing a breath into her paralyzed lungs, she slipped from the truck. Leaning against the cheap hunk of metal, she tried to calm herself, tried to gather the pieces before actually entering the house because she knew without a doubt that either Logan, Scott or both were waiting for her.

Seeing the mess she'd made of her hands even through the gloves, she shoved them into her pockets. She tried to keep her head up, tried not to let the tears pool in her eyes but the closer she got to the door, the harder it became. Stopping before the large door, she took one last breath and as silently as she could, she slipped into the house. Slipping out of her shoes, she left them at the door knowing her mauled hands wouldn't be able to carry them.

As she headed for the stairs, the world around her faded again, the walk to her room passing in a daze. She could feel herself start to crumble but she didn't care. She wanted to be afraid of being caught but all she could feel was the pain from the memory. The look on her mother's face rolled through her mind, her shattered and completely grief-stricken face. A face she knew without a doubt was being mimicked on hers.

A voice wormed its way into her fogged mind forcing her to clue into the world that surrounded her. It dawned on her that she'd missed her room and when she turned to find it, she found instead an apprehensive Scott and an unreadable Logan. She quickly shied away, shutting them out, hiding behind a curtain of flowing hair.

TBC

Aquarius Angel : I'll try not to leave you hanging - I promise. I went over an outline with my beta so I now officially have a plan… Will it stay in effect? Who knows.

Flaming Dancer 77 : The man will remain nameless for now although I finally know who he is myself. It's bad I know but I don't like to plan that far ahead. Thank you for the compliment, there should be most Scott/Logan/Marie in the next chapter.

Tara : Thank you for that, I'll try and keep it good. Promise.

RebelRogue127 : All we be revealed in time, I'm evil, I like to drag things out a bit as long as what's written is still entertaining. Hopefully you'll still like the plot as it progresses.

April : Oh god! I would never do a dream thing! It's too cruel - in the end one man will win and that is something I do not know and will not know for quite some time. I have to let my muse have the last say on that one. Hopefully this wait wasn't that bad as the last though the fact that you looked is incredibly sweet and I have to thank you over and over for that. Means a lot to me. Every review does.

Lily Dragon00 : You always need a good comedic relief character - I like to have a lot of them but Jubilee just seemed to be this stories comic relief girl. I'm flattered that you think my writing is that good, thank you.

Hotaru170 : As long as you don't fall, I may have to leave you hanging for a little while longer, hehe. Thanks though for reassuring me, it's hard to update often and it kills me that other authors can do it so quickly. But I try and that's all that matters right?

Anyway guys, I hope to update again soon and I also hope that what comes out of this is good enough to keep you guys coming back. Thank you all again sooooo much for the reviews - they motivate me and keep things going smoothly.

----Gimpy----


	4. Half Truths & Full Lies

Moving On Chapter 4

By Gimpy

* * *

From behind the blanket of hair Rogue watched with apprehension as Scott pushed up from the wall he and Logan had been occupying. There was a strain on his face as he did and she knew he'd been sitting there for a long time - waiting for her. Guilt hit her hard but she swallowed it. The man took a few steps and stopped, pausing two feet before the girl, his eyes unreadable but the lines on his youthful face giving his anger away. Placing a poorly constructed wall around her, Rogue lifted from behind the veil and tried to smile.

Hands still securely in her pockets she peered at Scott and said the first thing that came to mind. "Hi."

A bushy brow lifted at her words but Logan remained on the floor next to her door, no doubt acting as century or a guard. She loved these guys, she did, but their protective streak ran a little too deep and too long. Scott was obviously the first wave, the first man on the battlefield and probably the first to be dragged off.

His arms were folded across his chest, typical 'school-teacher' maneuver, and when he spoke he carried the same tone he used in the classroom. "Hi? If that's your defense you may want to strike legal litigation from your list of college courses."

"Defense?" Innocence… innocent voice, innocent eyes, innocent stance. A tactic used several times and normally effective. When the subject is alone and not so pissed off.

"No," Scott started, a hand raised against the look she was giving him. "The innocent act is out of order today so put up the sign and start explaining yourself."

Rogue sighed, the naïve light dimming and letting the darkened child underneath through. The cloud ravished her face, claiming all it could and when it was done all she could do was frown. "Ah'm sorry."

He couldn't help but be caught off guard by the drastic change. A moment of uncomfortable silence fell when Scott forgot how to work his mouth. Running a hand over his face, he sighed and spoke softly, "I'm trying to be sympathetic here."

Nibbling her bottom lip, Rogue muttered, "Ah know."

Her chestnut hair fell into her eyes and Scott couldn't help but want to push it away. He didn't, instead kept the step he'd taken to do so. "I get that last night… it was screwed up."

A rumble of laughter rolled through her, its tone bitter. "Thank yah Captain Obvious."

Ignoring the jibe, Scott continued, his hand still running the course of his face. "I'm not going to pretend I understand what happened… and you're not going to tell me, I can deal with that."

"Don't sell meh short just yet Scooter, wait a bit an' at least give the pretense of tryin'." The anger rose before she could stop it and at the moment she was doing a balancing act over whether she would care either way.

"What I don't get, Marie," he ground out, her words seemingly slipping past him. "Is what made you think that you could just disappear without saying a word? No one knew where you were, when you were coming back. For all we knew you'd run away and were half way back to Canada or lying in a ditch somewhere."

"Or in New York! Sittin in a damned coffee shop! Did that ever cross yah mind? That maybe Ah needed ta get away an clear mah mind? Westchester isn't the center of the universe yah know!" Rogue snapped, storming into her room, the door crashing violently with the wall. She knew they were following and had no qualms in continuing. "Or did your mind just jump ta 'Rogue the run away' country?"

"Marie," Logan's horse voice broke in as he slipped into the room and leaned on the frame.

"He speaks!" she countered. "An here Ah thought yah were just back up incase one-eye here couldn't get past the infantry."

"So what, it's a crime now to worry about you?" Scott snapped before Logan could.

Standing tall in the center of her room, she shot looks back and forth between her men. The edge in her voice softened as she spoke, "Maybe it should be."

The sandy haired leader had been expecting a retort, a snide and deadly comment but once again the girl had managed to tear out his ability to speak. Dumbfounded he turned to Logan for support but the broader man simply shrugged. 'So much for backup' he mused to himself.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked timidly, afraid of the answer.

She could feel the spotlight shining down on her, its heat forming beads of sweat on her contorted forehead. Trying to find stable ground to completely bypass this one, she dropped onto her bed and sighed.

"Ah don't know… nothin ah guess."

"See there you go again," Scott started as his frustration built. "You give me a snippet and then you stop talking all together."

"Ah beg your pardon?"

"I don't know!" Scott's arms flew into the air and he started to pace. "You never talk."

Her green jeweled eyes widened in shock. "What! Ah talk, Ah talk so much yah have ta shut me up most times. Where have yah been these last few months during my babblin' sessions?"

"I don't think that's what he meant," Logan added, still hiding in the shadows.

"Thank you!" Scott shouted, his frustration reaching new heights. "Even the self-proclaimed ass understands."

"Hey!" Logan yelled, not in the least bit offended.

"Sorry," Scott muttered offhandedly. "You talk, I know you talk, non stop at times. But you never talk, talk."

Rogue was slowly becoming indignant, wondering how the conversation had switched from her being out past curfew to this - whatever this was. "What do yah want me ta talk 'bout? The weather? It's been crap lately, Ororo should really look into that. Or how 'bout politics? Ah could bore yah ta death over the Bush/Re-election thing. Or music, or books, TV? What?!" she snapped when he tossed his arms in the air again and let out an angered breath.

"You! I want you to talk about you!"

"Ah talk about me," she quipped hotly.

"Yeah about the bitch of a final chemistry exam, or the massive headache you have, or how annoying Jubilee can be when she's trying to play dress up with you. But never about the things that make you _you_. I don't know what your favorite color is, your favorite song or band for that matter. I don't know any of your fears or your joys. I don't even know your last name and I wouldn't have known your first if I hadn't heard Logan say it."

Rogue felt like a fish struggling to breathe, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find something to say. Sucking her lip into her mouth she found her voice. "Green, Perfect, Elton John, heights, closed spaces, bein' alone, open spaces, chocolate milk shakes an hugs."

Both men just stood there staring at her, wonder and uncertainty shining in their eyes.

Sighing she amended, "Mah favorite color is green, mah favorite song in Perfect by Alanis Morisette, mah favorite band is Elton John though technically he's not a band. Ah'm afraid o' heights, enclosed spaces an o' bein' alone. Mah joys are open fields, chocolate milk shakes on Sundays and hugs." Peering up at them from the permanent spot she'd marked on the floor she asked, "Am Ah done now? Can Ah sleep?"

Neither man noticed her purposefully leave out her last name for which she was grateful. Logan remained stoic and unreadable but Scott had the word 'unsatisfied' printed boldly on his face. To her utter disappointment he moved and crouched before her. Staring up into her eyes, she saw her exhausted reflection in the ruby quartz and sighed.

"It's not just those small details. It's not," he reinforced when Marie tried to move away from him. "There are things that I wish you'd talk to me about… Liberty Island for one. You never talk about that."

"That's 'cause there's nothin ta say. Ah was kidnapped, used, saved an' we all moved on," she droned, the words a mantra she'd forcibly told herself after that night.

"And Alkali?" The words choked in Scott's throat as he mentioned it, his own memories resurfacing.

"What about it?"

Reaching for her hands, he noticed they were still firmly in her pockets. He grabbed at them through her jeans and spoke with determination, never noticing the cringe on her face. "That's just it, I've told you everything about that night. My fears, my sorrows. And every time I came to you, you just listened and I never got to hear your thoughts. Those are the things I want to know. I want to know your good, your bad and even your ugly side cause I know that there's an even more beautiful side that you won't let me see."

There were no words, not a single one to even compare to that. So she sat there and stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. The night's accumulations were becoming too much. Her secrets were at risk and she'd killed herself trying to keep them from her men and now here they were asking for them. They didn't even know what it was they were asking for, the answers more then either one could chew. She knew that. So she kept her mouth shut and didn't even try.

"Nothing?" Scott spoke the word like a curse falling from his lips. "That's what I get. Not a damned thing even though I've given you everything I've got and more."

He sat back on his heels, his eyes trying see through her. She saw the hurt and another part of her died. Would this day never end? Would the pain be never-ending like a river? Was she heading towards an ocean?

"Do I even get a reason for last night or tonight?" He was swiftly becoming bitter, jaded.

Her glistening lips parted but there was no sound, apologies swelling in her eyes. Pushing back completely, Scott stared down at her, disappointment boring into her. She tried again but there was nothing there. Shaking his head, Scott turned to leave.

"Wait!" she cried, her legs springing her forward. Grabbing his arm she pulled him back.

There was no resistance when he swiveled and looked down at her. There was hope littering his features. All he wanted from her was her voice, her mind, her thoughts. Three things she didn't even know if she had anymore.

Reaching up, she brought the hand less bruised to his face, the silky fabric catching against the shadow on his cheekbones.

"Scott…" she sighed, simply holding his face. His demeanor was begging her to throw him a bone, something to make him feel like the relationship with its undefined borders wasn't just one-sided. She wanted to, wanted so desperately to give him something. "Yah're right," she admitted, brushing at the stubble gently. "Ah keep a lot to mahself. It's… easier that way. An Ah guess ya oughta know more. Yah more then deserve it. Both o' yah do," she added, looking to Logan with a sad smile on her face. Letting out a sad breath, she bowed away, turning her back and moving to stand before the vast window.

She watched their reflections and fiddled around her jumbled brain for an acceptable lie. "There are just some things Ah gotta keep ta mahself… it's the way Ah grew up… The truth is last night at the celebration… Ah panicked…" Bracing her slender frame against the window she breathed against the glass, fog forming on the cool surface.

"Everyone is leavin', headed off somewhere Ah can't go… Ah'm stuck here an' probably will be for life." Twisting around to gauge their reactions, she added softly. "Ah dunno… it got ta me more then Ah thought it would… an taday… Ah just needed ta think… figure things out."

Both men bared thoughtful looks on their faces, taking her words to heart, already having suspecting them but glad to hear them from the source. It killed her inside - it wasn't like these words weren't true but they didn't matter that much. Fact was she was lying to them, a thing she never wanted to do, ever.

"What'd you come up with?" Logan asked, taking the soapbox out from under Scott.

Shrugging, she spoke the conclusion she'd come up with long ago when it came to her mutation and this place. "Westchester may not be the center o' the universe but it's the center o' mine. Ah have everything Ah want here, friends, a chance at a future o' sorts an…" She struggled to say protection, because in that moment she had none, she was vulnerable and she couldn't even go to them for help. "Security."

"That's not all you'll have, Marie. Never count on things staying the same, trust me, I know from experience," Logan commented, his mind fleeting back to when he'd met her, how everything about him had changed in that moment.

Scott remained silent, content that she'd shared a piece of her soul, however small it was. Going to her, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

His voice ringing so close to her ear made her shiver and she whispered back in a quivering voice, "No problem."

When he pulled back her gave her a wistful smile. "See that I get, just don't run off like that without saying something to us first."

A promise she agreed to but knew she wouldn't be able to keep. Not until the nightmare she found herself in was resolved. "Can Ah sleep now?" she yawned for effect, not tired even in the slightest.

Laughing softly, Scott nodded, gave her arm a squeeze and started to leave. As he passed Logan he asked under his breath, "You coming?"

Tearing his gaze away from Rogue, he looked at Scott and nodded. "In a bit."

Something tugged at Scott's insides, just the thought of Logan alone in her room with her irking him. He ignored it like he did every other time he started to believe his shades should be made of green and not red. Giving his approval with a nod, though he knew Logan would have stayed no matter what, he left.

Rogue had watched the interaction with confusion, noticing a macho clash that only lasted for a moment. A moment she let slide not really understanding its meaning. When Scott left, Logan closed the door and a landslide of curses coursed through her mind. Had he seen past her completely? She watched him intently, apprehensive beyond reason, something he seemed to sense.

The whole time Scott had talked, Logan had sat back, just watching her move, catching every change in her scent. The one scent that bothered him the most was blood. He'd smelled it before she'd even mindlessly passed her room but it wasn't strong enough to worry Scott with. The man almost always had a stick up his ass. The scent that was radiating from her now was a slightly nervous fear.

"Sit," he ordered, motioning to the bed with his head.

She did as he asked, too drained to argue. With Logan, the ease she felt was greater than with Scott, he didn't talk like Scott, didn't confide in her or demand she do the same. Rogue understood Logan far more and enjoyed the fact that he was as secretive as she was. But right now all she felt was unease, she could tell just by looking at the man that he knew something she didn't want him to.

Arms lining his chest, the blank look still on his face, he looked at her, his eyes conveying what his words wouldn't. Another trait she admired and despised at the same time.

"What?" Again she used the innocent act, unintentionally.

"Hand, now," he demanded in a soft voice.

Her gaze fell to her gloved hand, the blood standing stark against the white fabric even in the darkened room. Chewing her bottom lip, she lifted the limb, presenting it to him without thought.

A light curse sounded when he finally saw what he'd smelled the entire time. He dropped to his knees before her and reached for the wound, barely holding it in his hand. Looking into her shadowed eyes he questioned her with his own.

"Me an your dash don't seem ta get along," she joked softly.

Shaking his head he moved to pull the sticky glove from her arm but she quickly jerked away.

"Yah're not wearing gloves," she pointed out.

Taking a deep breath, he motioned for her to do it herself. She did, gingerly pulling at the confining glove. As the mess she'd made was finally revealed, both Logan and Rogue cringed. It was bloody, still seeping in places and crusted over in others. The colors alone were sickly, yellows, greens, blacks, purples and slight touches of blue soaked her skin as if they'd been painted on. It was unnatural.

"Damn Marie," Logan cursed again, his large palm hovering over hers. "I'm afraid to see my dash."

A light giggle shook through her. "No worries, Ah think it faired better then mah hands."

"Hands?" he quickly jumped on the slip, motioning for the other glove to come off. Though it wasn't as bad it still looked angry and painful. Shaking his head in disbelief, he droned, "What am I going to do with you?"

A blush warmed her cheeks when she thought about the comment. Unbeknown to her, the same thoughts were traveling through Logan's. Thoughts he quickly dispelled, berating himself for simply entertaining them. But when their eyes locked, there was no denying it. The emerald hue in her eyes had darkened, burned by her adulterated thoughts. They entranced him, guiding him into a world where he didn't belong. The temptation proved too much and everything rational he held dear was tossed aside. Her scent changed drastically, transgressing from unnerved and fearful to undeniable desire, the fear still lingering. His eyes bore into hers, the heat he radiated drawing struggled breaths from her lungs. He could practically see her pulse beating faster at the apex of her neck, increasing as he drew nearer.

If you asked him what was traveling through his mind in that moment, he wouldn't have been able to tell you. It was wrong, a fact he knew all too well. She was so young but from the moment he'd connected eyes with her in that dirty bar up north, he'd seen glimmers of something beyond her physical years. There was a grace no teenager should hold, a sultry appeal that demanded you take notice, an all-encompassing innocence that forced you back when you got too close. Yet in this moment that innocence was nowhere to be seen, the roadblocks were missing and he couldn't stop himself.

Grasping her jean-clad knee in a firm but soothing hold, he searched for uncertainty, something to detour him. Instead she leaned into him, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck where his checkered shirt covered. Her hot breath washed over him, causing him to growl so softly it was more of a whimper than anything. The primal part of him, the wolverine, wanted her, wanted to ravish her until the only thing she could do was breathe his name. The human side wanted the same but was able to realize the restrictions.

Lifting her head, bringing her lips inches from his ear, she murmured his name. It rolled off her tongue like an aphrodisiac and before he had time to think, the restrictions were lost and he had her pinned to the bed. A gasp flowed from her lips and she arched into him. His body brushed against her, drawing the same gasp. Drinking in the sight of her writhing beneath him, he moved to capture her lips.

The moment shattered, Rogue shoving him off of her. The smell of fear threatened to drown Logan and he rolled over and cursed under his breath. Closing his eyes tightly, hiding behind an arm, he mentally slaughtered himself for going as far as he had. Scott was right, he was an ass. Ears peaked, he listened to her ragged breaths and hitching sobs. God, he'd made her cry.

Pulling his arm away he allowed his eyes to fall on her quivering form sitting dangerously close to the edge of the bed. He watched as she tried to rest her face in her hands but the pain was too much and she simply hung her head in despair. Again Logan cursed himself, using every word he could think of.

"God… Marie," whispered harshly, pushing himself up and leaning heavily on his knees.

Sad eyes glanced his way but quickly fell away as she muttered, "Ah-Ah'm sorry."

That was not what he'd expected, not even close. Curses, angered words, accusations - those he could deal with because he knew he deserved them. But her despair and utter guilt was not what he'd expected at all.

"You are _not_ the one who should be saying that," Logan amended, his voice deeply rooted in regret. "I'm the one who took advantage… god I am such an ass."

Spinning around to face him, her eyes gleamed with shock. "What? Logan yah did nothin Ah didn't want yah to. Trust me, Ah wanted it." She shied away from him again, trying as best she could to hold herself with her mangled hands. "Ah'm just sorry that, yah know… Ah can't… Ah'm so fricken useless…"

How could he not have realized? Was she seriously thinking she was inadequate? Sighing he slid himself closer and wrapped a cautious arm around her shoulders. She relaxed into the hold, leaning against his shoulder.

"Darlin' don't you ever say that again," he spoke sternly but with a gentle tone.

Rogue relished the feel of his arm around her, letting the feeling seep into her, forming a memory to look back on and enjoy. The silence became edgy and she quickly pulled away. Standing she turned to him and smiled a sad smile.

"Yah should go… Ah'm tired an…"

"Yeah, no, of course…" Logan started, feeling more like a nervous boy then the boorish man he was. Standing and running a hand through his hair, he started to leave. "I'll uh… send Hank up to take a look at those hands of yours," he stuttered out.

"Thanks," she whispered, unconsciously bringing her hands closer to her chest.

"Se-see you tomorrow."

Blushing, she nodded, barely smiling as she closed the door behind him. Leaning into it, she waited until the sound of his feet hitting the floor slipped into the background. Closing her eyes, she roamed over the events of today, wondering how it had gotten so messed up. She searched for the exact moment but couldn't find it. Whatever had just happened with Logan had managed to take her mind off her hands and the earlier events but now they were back. Every second was haunting her, taunting her. Ignoring the fact that she was still dressed, knowing full well getting undressed with her hands would be impossible, she climbed into bed and waited for the teddy-bear doctor. Within moments of her head hitting the pillow her eyes closed and she was lost to the world though it still seeped into her dreams, chasing her long into the night past the break of day and deep into the morning.

TBC

* * *

Author's Notes

Shelbecat: I love when you beta for me - I don't think I'll ever want anyone else to do it for me cause I respect your advise and wisdom. I actually wasn't sure about the memory but I think it added depth - or I hope it did and as for being elusive - you were visiting your sister so I didn't have you for a while. To me that's elusive lol

Sade: Well thank you for reading - means a lot to know I'm not doing this for nothing. I love Scott and Logan's relationship with Rogue too, it's fun but in the future tensions will be rising. I can't help it - I love tension lol. As for Rogue's past, that's something I'm saving - though you're right her reaction to all of this should be a slight tell as to what happened. As for who this guy is… sorry saving that too lol but don't worry I don't plan on sitting on his identity for too long. Thank you for the huge review - I get a lot of one liners - which I love don't get me wrong - but the longer the better.

April: Wow you were right on the money about the smelling part! As for interaction - well hopefully this was okay enough - I tried not to make Scott look like an ass - hopefully I succeeded.

Empathy Is Me: Aww thanks - hopefully the wait wasn't too much this time.

Mishy: A review for both chapters!! Loving it! lol! I didn't get my hair done that day but I should be on Tuesday which is tomorrow so you'll have to come over. That's quite the compliment for you to have zoned out the rest of the world while reading it - means a lot to me Mish so thanks. This stalker guy is definitely a little crazed but what mad man isn't? hehe…


	5. Pandora's Box

Moving On Chapter 5

By Gimpy

* * *

The sun beat tirelessly on the grounds surrounding the immaculate mansion forcing anyone with common sense to find shade anywhere they could. The large swimming pool was lifeless, no one willing to risk the sun burns even though the water seemed too enticing to ignore. The air was humid, testing Rogue's strength at being burdened with the layers of clothes. Sprawling out along the extended lounge chair, she tried to keep cool praising the overbearing height of the mansion cascading a welcomed shadow over her warmed form. Turning her gaze to her underdressed counterpart she found herself jealous of the small tank top and mini shorts she adorned.

Sensing Rogue's eyes on her, Jubilee turned over and smiled at her friend. It slipped just a little when she caught sight of the brace encasing her arm. Her friend and confidant still hadn't explained its presence.

"So," she spoke, flopping onto her stomach and pushing herself up to rest on her elbows.

"So…" Rogue queried when the girl didn't continue her thought.

"You gonna tell me how you got that not so fashionable arm accessory?"

Leaning into the soft cushion beneath her, Rogue muttered, "Bad night plus a bad day multiplied by frustration equaled fists meetin' Logan's dashboard."

"Ouch," Jubilee muttered, toying with the strands of her hair. When the girl didn't expand Jubilee let it go, knowing she would when ready. "It's too damn hot out here."

Sweltering, Rogue peeled her damn T-shirt from her form, when she let go it slapped back against her skin. "It's better then the rain we've been gettin' lately. Ah love a good thunderstorm but it's been ridiculous."

"I don't know, there's something more then appealing about making out during a thunderstorm." Jubilee quipped, a wistful smile on her face.

The light grin that had feathered Rogue's face fell, her thoughts travelling to the newly founded relationship between her best friend and her former boyfriend. "Ah wouldn't know…"

"What's up with you today? You seem… sour…"

"Ah'm sorry…" she muttered, chewing her cheek. "Can Ah ask yah somethin?"

"Of course ya can," she whispered, concern streaking across her face as she wondered when their open lines of communication had become questionable, trying to find a time when they couldn't ask each other anything, a reason for Rogue to be hesitant to talk to her now.

Gathering herself Rogue made a mental note to keep her question as vague as possible. "Have yah…" she sighed, unsure of where to start.

"Have I what?" Jubilee encouraged with warmth in her eyes.

"Have yah ever been so confused… so conflicted that it… it's all yah can think 'bout? It haunts yah an' yah just can't seem ta escape it? An the only people yah feel yah can talk ta are the people yah _can't_ talk ta?"

Speechless, Jubilee was caught off guard by the completely lost look in her eyes. Wracking her brain Jubilee gave her a small reassuring grin. "Wow… heady…"

Bowing away Rogue muttered a soft apology and added, "It's stupid, Ah know."

"Actually…" She started, hugging her body to the cushion beneath her. "That's pretty much exactly how I felt about the whole me and Bobby thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I mean I've liked him for awhile and I suspected he liked me too but I didn't know, know. And… It was hard cause I didn't know what to do about it. There's only one person in this place I have ever felt comfortable talking to and that's you. It wasn't as if I could have just walked up to you and started in on how I liked your ex. It was just, hard beyond belief."

"Yah know yah could have come ta me at any point. Ah would have been okay with it," Rogue stated though Jubilee could tell it was lacking in conviction.

Eyeing her softly Jubilee probed, "Are you sure about that?"

Cradling her arm closer to her chest Rogue thought about her answer before she gave it. "Honestly?" she asked receiving a nod. "It's a lil hard… not cause its you but cause he was mah first boyfriend… it was hard enough losin' him. Ah should have listened to mah gut an never gone out with him in the first place. It was never fair ta him." Growing silent, lost in contemplation she took a moment before speaking again. "Ah'm glad that he has yah just… watch out, he may be a lil or should Ah say a lot affectionate."

Jubilee grinned stupidly at the sentiment. "That I won't mind."

Letting out a soft giggle, Rogue went back to idly toying with the plastic brace holding her mangled hand in place. Jubilee smothered her face into her cushion, her mind on overdrive thinking about just how affectionate Bobby was going to be. Shifting, Rogue tried to ignore the sweat forming on her overheated body.

"It's too damned hot," she grumbled.

"Well no wonder, you're decked out in a pair of jeans, a far too thick T-shirt and those gloves… I think I'd die if I were you." Jubilee mused. Bursting into a sitting position her eyes flashed as an idea popped into her head. "I'll be right back!"

Rogue watched with an amused grin as her friend dash into the mansion without even uttering a reason. When she realized she was now alone with herself she cursed. Just as her wavering mind started to fall back to the day before she heard footsteps coming from the French doors. Her spirits lifting she turned expecting to find her jubilant friend but her mood crumbled when her eyes landed on her visitor.

Logan's disheveled form stood in the doorway, his face blank as ever but she could visibly see the nerves coming off him in spades. She tried to smile at him but found she lacked the ability. For a moment he just stood there staring at her, his eyes almost seeing right through her. And just like that it faltered and his hazel gaze fell. Spotting the brace he veered in on it.

"How bad?" he asked, managing to turn two simple words into a twofold question.

Shrugging, she answered in an almost despondent voice. "Sprained, hence the brace."

Logan nodded as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the many things that made him Logan. Placing the cigar in his mouth he lit it taking a generous amount of smoke into his lungs. Once again he stood, silent and unreadable, content to simply take breath after breath of acidic clouds into his chest then puff them back out. The unease he was creating within Rogue was starting to make her fidget, practically pealing at the plastic covering on her arm.

Unable to bear the silence she spoke up. "So… what have yah been doin all mornin?"

She half expected him to ignore the question and continue to suck on the poisonous tobacco. He didn't, glancing her way with a tired look in his eyes. "Became the designated bellhop."

"Bellhop?"

Giving the question a shrug with his broad shoulders he inched towards her, planting himself on the end of her lounge chair. She immediately curled in on herself, moving her legs as far away as possible without actually getting off the chair.

"Yeah… A lot of the kids are leaving today, headed off to college or vacation or whatever," he muttered, his thumb absently running the length of the cigar as it sat in his hand.

"An' they elected yah ta do the heavy liftin'," she finished for him adding a nervous laugh.

"Pretty much," he droned. "But hey, if it means getting rid of a few geeks I'm up to it." There was no laughter though his words were a blatant joke. Taking her in from the corner of his eye Logan sighed. He'd made a mess and now he had to try and clean it up. The only problem was he didn't know what to say. Hell he didn't even know the answers himself. Twisting around to face her his hand unconsciously found her bent knee, grasping it almost possessively.

"Marie… about last night-" he started but she quickly sat up straight and cut him off.

"Logan it's okay, really. Yah don't have ta explain cause Ah already get it." Her voice was soft, betraying nothing.

Giving her an uncertain look, his brow raising smoothly he asked, "You do?"

Swallowing hard, she nodded. "It's been awhile since yah… Yah know…" Her cheeks flushed in a deep vibrant red.

"Yeah…" The word was more a question then affirmation.

"An'… Ah was there," she whispered, barely able to look at him. "Ah know it doesn't mean anythin'. Ah was convenient."

Logan struggled for words, his heart clenching for reasons unknown to him. Connecting with her brilliant eyes he realized she was giving him a way out. A way to pretend it never happened. The fact that she was willing to do that for him almost made his heart break. He questioned himself, hating that he wanted to take it but knowing it was easier that way.

"Convenient…" he murmured. "Right."

Her heart caught at his words, hating them as much as she needed to hear them. She wasn't stupid she knew that it really had meant nothing but she'd hoped. Tears swelled in her eyes, a fact she tried to hide. She failed and he caught their scent, confusing him even further.

"Yah should probably head back in," Rogue suggested, just wanting him to leave.

Taking one long drag from the cigar he leaned over and brushed the cherry tip on the concrete. Placing the dead cigar in his pocket he turned to her, finding her eyes once more. What he saw ate at him because he knew he'd hurt her again somehow. But she wanted it this way, didn't she? Feeling far more lost then before he started back in. As he passed the threshold he bumped into Jubilee who swiftly made a derogatory comment he barely even heard.

"What's eating him?" she asked moving to take back her chair.

"Don't know," Rogue muttered finally allowing her legs to stretch out again.

"Here," Jubilee said, passing a huge bowl of ice cream.

Rogue took it gratefully, reeling in the feel of something cold against her warmed skin. Bringing the biggest helping of the smooth frozen desert to her lips her eyes found their way to the path Logan had taken. When the cool food touched her tongue she gasped. "Cold!" she cried, taking the spoon from her mouth quickly.

"That's the point, silly," Jubilee quipped. Watching as her friend got herself accustomed the feel of something frozen in her mouth she turned back to her own musing softly, "You are one lucky chica."

Shocked, Rogue almost spat out her café mocha flavored treat, managing to swallow it instead. "How's that?" she asked, shivering as a cool rush flooded her veins.

Rolling her eyes, Jubilee shoved another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth before responding. "Girl, you are smack dab in the center of one of the most tantalizing and gorgeous love triangles to ever be created."

A scoff managed to filter from her cream fill mouth, "Excuse me?"

"Please! You," she pointed her spoon at Rogue, a grin on her rosy cheeks. "Cannot tell me you haven't noticed."

"Ah don't know what yah're talkin' about."

Jubilee's eyes bulged and her ice cream was forgotten. "Come on! You, Logan and Scott." When nothing registered on Rogue's face Jubilee almost died. "Chica honey, you can't tell me you haven't noticed the male macho contest going on between them?"

Titling her head in disbelief Rogue quipped, "They've always done that, from the moment they met. It has nothin ta do with me."

"See now that's where you're wrong. It has everything to do with you. They go out of their way to make you happy, you're the only person aside from the Prof. they actually talk to and if one of them gets a moment alone with you the other one sees green for a week."

"Yah're insane, yah know that? Like clinically insane." Rogue muttered, turning her attention back to her bowl.

"Me? Insane? Never! … Well maybe a little, but that's not in question here. Think about it, who does Scott go to when he has a bad day or he needs someone else's opinion on something?"

"Well me but that's cause we're friend Jube's. Like you an me. We talk an' confide in each other all the time."

The Asian beauty's brow rose. "If our relationship was anything like the one you have with Scott, I would have kept on dancing with you the other night instead of going over to Bobby."

"Okay no!" Rogue cried out, mock disgust riddling her face. "Don't get me wrong, yah're a beautiful girl an if Ah went that way, an it were possible, Ah probably would have jumped yah already."

"Ditto chica," Jubilee smiled blowing Rogue a mock airy kiss. "But ya can't deny that there's something there. Plus there's no way in hell that you can deny that there's something between you and Logan. That man has it hard for you in the 'primal beast - possessive - touch and die' kind of way. He almost died for you and would totally do it again. At which point I curse your existence and wish hopelessly that he looked at me the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

Rogue was beyond speechless, any chance at words swallowed whole by the implications. Scott and Logan don't feel that way about her. They couldn't, Scott was ten years her senior though technically eight maybe seven, but he didn't know that. Which is aside from the fact that he's still grieving the love of his life. Then again there have been moments. Hugs that left little room to breathe and lasted a little longer then needed. Moments when his hand found hers under the table or his leg brushed against hers and then stayed. She'd always discounted them as his need for reassurance, understanding that he wasn't alone…

"Then there's of course the little moment you just had with Logan. I felt the sexual tension from the kitchen and what I walked in on… that was seriously uncomfortable," Jubilee's voice faded to the background in Rogue's mind as she tried to disprove her theory.

She could never believe that Scott would see her that way but Logan… A shift had happened in him when he's taken her in and she questioned every moment of it. The look they shared when he'd spotted her from his side of the cage up in Laughlin. The quick shift in his decision to let her hitch a ride with him. All the little things that had happened, the sharing of their real names, the disclosure about his dog tags, their presence around her neck for all that time. Then there was of course the moment on the train when he wrapped his arm around her and held her to him, something you'd never expect from the angered Canadian. Liberty Island, his willingness to give up his life for her…

A crush had formed after all of that but she'd come to the conclusion that it was too childish, too idiotic to keep. His age was boundless and when he'd come back after searching the Rockies for his former self that connection they had formed had almost completely vanished. She'd accepted his love for the red headed beauty knowing nothing would ever happen between herself and him.

But Jean was gone now. Had become the replacement? That's the only reason she could imagine either man feeling anything even remotely romantic towards her. They were replacing Jean with her.

"Did something happen between you and Logan?" Rogue's silence was ringing bells in Jubilee's head and the look of something close to guilt that followed her question almost gave the girl a heart attack. "Oh! OH!" Jubilee's hands waved around frantically trying to dispel the utter bliss and excitement ready to burst forth.

Rogue shot her a menacing look but the other girl didn't notice or care. Practically bouncing out of her own skin Jubilee shot over to Rogue's chair her large brown eyes gleaming brightly.

"Something happened? Oh my god! You have to dish every detail even the minor ones. I want every word spoken, every caress but most of all I wanna know what that fine piece of Canadian beef feels like."

"Jubes," she dragged out her name, feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable.

"No-o-o! No-no NO! I have been eyeing that dark, gorgeous, mysterious piece of ass for far too long! I live vicariously through you, I need to know," she begged desperately, grabbing at Rogue's pant legs and clenching them in her tightly wound fists. "Please… please… please."

"Oh mah god, yah are pathetic yah know that?" Rogue jibed, a smile lingering beneath her flustered and burning cheeks. "What 'bout Bobby?"

"Vicarious. It's a four syllable word that roughly means living through you cause I have always and will always be forced to admire from afar. It's a whole you can look but can't touch thing." Jubilee's words unwittingly scratched at a nerve, bringing tears to Rogue's eyes.

Reluctant but knowing if she held back she'd never hear the end of it Rogue sighed. "Ta be honest Ah don't know exactly what happened. Ah came home late an both Scott an Logan were waitin' for me."

Jubilee's face contorted. "Oh, ouch. You get the lecture?" A lecture she knew far too well.

"Not really… Scott was just worried. Ah explained as best Ah could an it seemed ta be enough. He left but Logan stayed behind."

Jubilee gleefully ran her hands together, her grin growing.

"It wasn't cause he wanted me Jubes," Rogue deadpanned.

"How do you know?"

"Ah do… He knew about mah hands, smelt em or somethin', wanted ta check em over." Once again her hands found the rough plastic. "Which he did… Ah was sittin' on the bed an he was kneelin' before me. When he saw em he said somethin' 'bout not knowin' what ta do with me. Ah dunno, somethin' changed, somethin' in the air. He looked at me an the next thing Ah know, Ah've got mah face buried in his shoulder an Ah'm whispering his name an then Ah was layin' on the bed an he was on top of me."

A squeal wormed its way out of the wired girl sitting before Rogue. "Ah!"

Whirling away from her, Rogue hung her head sadly. "Don't get too excited, that's where it ends."

"What! No it can't end there, it was getting good!" Jubilee protested.

"Yeah well… he tried ta kiss me an Ah panicked, things got awkward after that an he left."

"Well it's a start," the flamboyant girl reassured, not quite understanding that reassurance wasn't what Rogue needed.

Glaring at her friend Rogue grew frustrated, her words growing hot and disdained. "What would it matter any way? It didn't mean anythin' ta him, he told me so himself. Ah'm a replacement for both of them. What ever yah think is there it's not about me."

Pulling back, shocked by the anger fuming from her best friend Jubilee floundered for words. "What do you mean?"

"It's not 'bout me Jubes, its 'bout her. It's always 'bout her. Ah'm safe to them, the replacement that they know nothin can ever happen with. The girl who won't think anythin of it cause she can't afford ta." Frustrated tears welled and her teeth bared down on her innocent bottom lip.

"Well… You've made progress haven't you? You and the doc have been studying it for months now."

"Progress, right," she snapped, shooting up from the lounge chair. "All Ah know is what Ah knew comin' into this place, that Ah'm dangerous. Ah don't know how it works let alone how to control it."

"Honey…" she cooed, reaching out for a hand that wasn't there. "I didn't think…"

"Of course not… cause yah don't have ta. Yah have control, the person who lives vicariously is me not you!" Overwhelmed Rogue apologized softly and walked away.

All Jubilee could do was watch, her mouth hanging down and her mind reeling from her angered words.

Easing her way into the foyer Rogue almost turned around completely. A small group of graduates had gathered saying their misty good-byes, going around hugging and making unfounded promises to keep in touch. Their suitcases, luggage and even garbage bags littered the floor, waiting to be carted out and smack dab in the center of it was a frustrated and exhausted Logan. The path to sanctuary seemed unattainable but Rogue's desperation had reached a new height. Sticking to the back wall she weaved her way around them and when she hit the steps she started to charge up them.

From behind her she heard a knock at the door, listened as Logan gruffly answered it and for reasons unknown to her she went stark white when a man's voice engulfed her. There was no familiarity but something in the pit of her stomach demanded she freeze at the first landing and listen to what he had to say. The deep voice mentioned something about a package and Rogue quickly turned around. Logan stood glaring at the man as he struggled to find the name it belonged to.

"Here it is… Miss Marie D'-"

Rogue's heart stopped all together as he struggled to say her last name. Springing to action before the deliveryman could successfully pronounce it she dashed down the stairs. "Here!" she cried, pushing through the group of teens and coming to halt beside Logan. "Ah'm right here."

Looking at her questionably he looked down at the paper before him then back. "You're Marie D'An-"

"Yes!" she interrupted before he could say it. "Ah'm her."

All activity halted behind her, more uncertain looks falling her way, Logan's own sideways glance piercing her.

"Okay," the deliveryman drawled, shifting a large box that was resting against his hip. He offered it to her and she moved to take it but stopped short.

"Uh…" she laughed nervously, staring at her hands.

"I'll take that," Logan offered reaching for it.

"No! Ah can take it, honestly." Rogue protested.

"Right, sure and I can fly," Logan grumbled, unnerved by her actions.

Helplessly she watched Logan take the box from the carrier. "Ah can."

"Damn-it Marie just sign for the damned thing," Logan cursed.

Sighing hotly she did as he asked and then reached for the box. "Give it here," she demanded.

Leaning down slowly, a look of death on his face Logan whispered harshly, "There's no way in hell you can carry this with your hands so if this is about what happened between us let it go! You can be bitchy later."

Her mouth fell open anger searing through her as she seethed back, "This has nothin' ta do with yah… Ass!"

"Yes it does, you don't want me helping you!" he snapped back, his voice raising enough for onlookers to hear.

"Wrong," she bit back her voice barely above a whisper. "Ah don't want help period!"

"Well you're gonna take it! Now where do you want this?"

Grinding her teeth, her nose flaring in anger, her words strained from her lips. "Follow me." Spinning around hotly she stomped her way up the stairs ignoring the bemused looks as she went. She was fuming now, cursing Logan's arrogance and ego.

The deliveryman watched them go muttering, "Do I get a tip? This isn't exactly mid down." When his words were ignored he shook his head and left cursing rich people.

When they were halfway down the hall to Rogue's room Logan grabbed her arm and spun her around. "What the hell was that?"

"Ah could ask yah the same thing!" she spat.

"You're acting like a spoiled little brat, Marie!"

"Yeah! An yah seem ta think yah're God! So we're even!" She whipped around again and marched straight to her room slamming the door open. Logan followed his heavy boots ramming into the floor as he went. "Put it on the bed then get out."

Shaking his head Logan turned on her. "Look!"

"No yah look! Ah am not in the mood for your king of wild, head of the pack, Ah am the man of the house attitude! Ah'm not your possession, Ah'm not helpless an Ah don't need your protection so place the damned box on the fricken bed an leave!"

"You want it? Fine!" he screamed, throwing the box onto the bed. Its corner hit the mattress and it bounced into the headboard. Flinging back in jumped off the bed and went crashing into Rogue's desk. The sound thundered in the room and the boxes top broke, the contents swiftly bleeding forth. Neither one moved as slips of paper seeped from the box, each one a cut out from various newspapers. Headline after headline assaulted their eyes, Rogue's growing wider as recognition floored her.

She let out a broken gasp as her legs crumbled out from underneath her. The carpet connected with her knees hard but all she could see was the papers before her. Shaky, torn hands reached out to grasp at the slips. Through tears stinging her eyes she read one headline;

"Second Man This Week Found Unconscious"

Covering her mouth, preventing the wretched sobs from finding freedom she grabbed at another slip.

"Mother Of Three Mysteriously Falls Into A Coma"

And another…

"Suspected Serial Rapist Found Dead On Road Side"

They continued in the same manor, each one speaking of victims found dead or in coma's with no reasonable explanation. And each one seemed to physically weaken Rogue as she remembered the horrible words. She knew them off by heart, could read them to you word for word. The words, the faces, the moments described were all imprinted in her mind, carved deeply into the walls she'd created to protect herself. There were dozens, each holding a piece of her, scattered across the floor. Her Pandora's box had come to her and left her without hope.

She barely registered Logan as he came up behind her or when he kneeled beside her. When he reached for a slip she screamed and slapped at his hand. She continued to slap and scratch screaming, "Get out!" over and over. Logan's massive hands grabbed at her arms careful of the wounds. The restraint didn't stop her as she squirmed and fought against him.

"Marie!" Logan screamed, shaking the girl hard. Polished nails found his face and dug in. "Damn-it Marie _stop_! Stop it! Now!" his voice cracked as fear, uncertainty and empathy scoured him.

Quivering uncontrollably she managed another hoarse, "Get out."

"No!" he responded trying to pull her to him.

She fought the hold, her crystalline eyes cracking before him. "Please, go… yah can't… yah can't see this." Twisting she escaped him and grabbed at the papers, frantically ripping and tearing them her pained hands crying out in protest which she ignored. "Yah can't know… yah can't…"

Logan tried to grab at her again but she shoved him away with more strength then he'd expected. Tumbling into the bed he watched with frightened eyes as the now wild Rogue wreaked havoc on the slips.

Pushing himself up and extending a cautious hand towards her he spoke softly, calmly. "Marie, darlin', ya gotta stop. Ya have to."

"No," she murmured, her actions becoming sluggish. Like dead weight her hands collapsed, hitting the ground soundly. Defeat overwhelmed her. This was it. Everything she'd been trying to protect, keep secret, it was sitting here before her like an opened flesh wound. It was over. Her chest heaved, her arms moving up and down as she tried to catch what little breath was possible. "Ah'm sorry," she sobbed. "Ah'm so sorry."

Crawling across the floor Logan pulled the girl to him and this time she went willingly. Rocking back and forth Logan stared down at the papers littering the floor trying to decipher how and why they were affecting this angel so deeply. He reached for one and Rogue watched muttering a soft protest he ignored. The headline jumped out at him and the words that followed detailed a fearful havoc caused by a mysterious string of unrelated victims succumbing to an unknown force, many ending up in comas for weeks almost months.

Understanding washed over him like jagged sandpaper. Peering down at the lithe form cradled in his arms he no longer saw the innocent angel, his opinion of her completely shattered. Her large doe eyes stared up at him, tears cascading down her reddened cheeks.

"Ah'm sorry," she whimpered sadly.

Stunned into silence Logan just held her, no words, barely even a thought lasting.

* * *

To be continued…

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Author's Notes: I've been sitting on this since late Thursday night. Why? Two reasons. One: I needed to wait for my beta to read it - which actually I didn't do - she hasn't had time to get to it. Two: I was hoping for more feedback, though I think I've already gotten far more then I deserve and I appreciated every single word of every single one. But, alas, I'm posting it now, I wanted to wait till Monday but I couldn't do it. Namely for my own ego, who is in dire need of boosting but also for the readers, cause I know I hate it when I have to wait too long for updates on the stories I'm reading… :glares at Angel LeeAnn - though she doesn't actually read this:

Little side note - Chapter 6 is completed and waiting to be beta read, I could of course do what I did with this one and post it prematurely - but that's only if you want it. :winks:

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jupiterhime: Thank you for the vote of confidence, I always freak out about whether or not I'm doing okay… is the plot believable? Are the characters portrayed right? Am I too heady in my descriptions? (One of my major faults right there.) So honestly and sincerely thank you

Sade: You're like the big tipper who doesn't skimp on giving out the love and I love that. Makes me look forward to your reviews. For some odd reason I'm pumping a chapter out in one day. The last three chapters and the next one all happened in one day. I'm a huge Rogue/Logan shipper to, have been since I started reading X-Men fan fiction. I love playing with it but I think Scott has a chance here too, which is a good thing cause it's a love triangle and the winner shouldn't be obvious until the end . Okay I made that rule up, sue me heh. The shit is definitely going to hit the fan, how can it not? Hopefully I don't make a mess of it, though with shit it usually is messy. Thank you for the massive review and hopefully the wait wasn't too long.

Roguehere: Hug me? Of course you can! I love hugs . Don't know why I deserve one but I'll take it. You know for me it usually takes about five chapters if not more before I really start to love a story so thank you for that - makes a girl teary-eyed. An no worries about the vocab - I tend to forget mine too when I'm reviewing something. Thanks also for the laugh - I got a kick out of what you said at the end there about stopping with the reading of the review and getting on to writing. I seriously laughed at that.

The Mishinator: Don't mind the nickname - I'm in a funny mood. I love my hair too! It's curled on me but it's a nice curl - but you already know that, heh. You think that was bad for Rogue… well it's about to get that much worse and we're only halfway down the hell hole. (Tell me if that makes sense heh!)

April: Wow, now those are pretty words for a writer to receive. Relaxed huh? Well I don't usually think about the actually writing part but I do map out some of the talking in my head - though it never quite happens on paper like it does in my head. As for the suspense thing - I think the premature posting of this chapter is a sign that I too share the impatience thing. The wait shouldn't be that much longer, unless I get evil and decide to just give you a hint and then keep the rest to myself for a few more chapters… I'm kidding… I think :giggles:

Thank you all so much for the reviews… 37 for only 4 chapters… wow… This is me shocked and confused but utterly content to accept it


	6. The Poisonous Kiss

Moving On - Chapter 6

By Gimpy

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Five looming figures gathered within the metallic walls, a heavy uncertainty hanging in the air. One man strayed from the rest letting the shadows consume him. Muscular and burly arms draped across his chest, a forbidden cigar firmly sitting between his thinly drawn lips. No one dared to comment on it, no one demanded he put it out, everyone understanding its need to be there. Another man arched over the highlighted table in the center of the shadowy room. His shoulders hunched over it, his head bowing to the contents that lay on it. His shaded eyes attempted to drink in the meaning that lay before him.

Pulling back he muttered, "I don't believe it. I refuse to."

Aged and graceful in his own right, Professor Charles Xavier guided his sleek chair closer to the foreboding table. "We must at least entertain the possibility that what we see before us is in fact truth."

"I agree, we cannot simply disregard it because we do not want to accept it." The lone woman in the group added, her soft voice only edging Scott on.

"No," he protested, pulling back even further.

"Mr. Summers, I understand your connection with Rogue, I like to believe that I have one too. But we can't allow that to interfere with our judgement." A new addition member of the infamous group, Hank hesitated before he'd added his own point of view.

"Like hell," Scott cursed, a tempered hand ruffling the short hairs on the back of his tensed neck. "We know her and this," he swiped his hand towards the table. "Is not her. It's not."

When all he received were questioning looks, he charged the table, grabbing at the loose-leaf papers scattered across it. "These don't make sense," he cried, shaking the crumpled sheets in his hand. "Some of them have dates going as far back as 1995, she was what, nine? Ten years old? No, it doesn't add up."

"Your faith in her is admirable, Scott," Xavier spoke in a calm and fatherly voice. "But what do we honestly know about the girl?"

"Enough!" Scott quipped, his temper rising as the feeling of being on trial overwhelmed him. "Enough to know that she would never have done this," he paused grabbing a particular clipping and reading the headline. "_'American Truck Driver Found Dead Inside Canadian Border'. _What the hell does that have to do with her? It's dated 1998, she was twelve!"

Unaffected by Scott's emotional outburst, Xavier tried to reason with him, his voice still deeply calm. "Perhaps nothing but you cannot deny that there must be something valid to these, her reaction to them is evidence enough."

Scott was grasping at straws now and he knew it. "Maybe it was just the content, maybe the word 'death' sprawled over half of these scared her? I don't know!"

"Scott," Storm drawled, an unintentional but no less demeaning look on her chiseled features. "You are reaching for something that isn't there. You know as well as I do that Rogue is a hardened young woman, I do not think a word could effect her if it didn't pertain to her deeply."

"Why am I getting the distinct feeling that I'm being ganged up on? And why the hell are you just standing there? I could use your help you know," Scott snapped, twisting to glare at the still silent Logan.

Guilt flashed across Logan's stoic features as he shifted his stance and kept his thoughts to himself. He couldn't bring himself to speak, all he could do was replay the situation over in his mind. The anger burning in her eyes that had been smoldered by her desperation. Her soft voice pleading with him for understanding. He couldn't bring himself to defend her and Scott saw it. It was written all along his face and utter shock threatened to throttle Scott.

"You rat bastard," he cursed, his glare darkening. "Don't tell me you, _you_ of all people, are buying into this crap?"

Tightening his hold on the cigar hanging from his lips, Logan hesitated before murmuring softly, "You weren't there…"

"No I wasn't, but you were," he spat, his words accusing Logan of more guilt then he deserved.

Scoffing bitterly, Logan stared at Scott, seething, "You wanna tell me what that's supposed ta mean?"

"No, I wanna know why you were in her room with her, alone? I wanna know why the kids in the hall say you two were fighting! I wanna know what the hell is going on between you two!" Scott's voice was slowly growing in strength as both men advanced on each other.

"Why Cyke? Ya jealous?" Logan's words dug in, hitting a deeply rooted nerve.

Stiffening, stretching his lean body as tall as it would go, Scott sneered at the slightly shorter man. "Do I have a reason to be?"

When Logan's smug smirk turned vicious, Xavier intervened quickly. "Gentlemen! You are losing site of the real problem. You can sort out whatever rivalry you have later. There are far more important things at hand than your own egos." Both men responded to the commanding voice of discipline, the bickering ending though the stares continued. "There is a girl sitting in the hall at this very moment, scared beyond all means and you two bickering is not going to help her. Now, if we are to _assume_ that what we have before us is grounded in truth, the question is why was it sent and what does it mean."

Silence followed the Professor's words as every member of the small group tried to wrap their minds around the events of the last few days and their meaning.

It dawned on Logan first and he muttered a curse, breaking the silence. "It makes sense…" His feet moved without consent, pacing his side of the room. "I thought that… she didn't want my help because she was pissed off at me. But she knew, she knew that the box was a threat to her and she was just trying to keep me from it."

"She's being blackmailed," Scott reasoned, his voice dropping into a husky whisper.

"So it would appear," Xavier added, reaching toward the table, his powers drawing a few clippings to his welcoming hand. "But to what end?" His words went unnoticed to both agitated men.

"Her hands… did she really do that or…" Scott couldn't finish the thought, didn't even want it floating around in his head.

The pace Logan had set faltered as he came to stand before his adversary and friend. "You don't think?"

Scott shrugged sadly, muttering, "It makes sense. But why wouldn't she tell us? She knows she can talk to us… she lied… last night she lied, why?" Scott was struggling to grasp everything rampaging before him.

"She was scared, I smelled it on her but I didn't think… It was there at the door and all the way down to her room and I didn't… Damn-it Scott, you should have seen her. It killed her, having me see. She begged for me to forgive her. She knew what she'd done and she begged me to forgive her." Logan's own eyes were pleading now, pleading because he should have seen it, should have known.

The other occupants were forgotten as the two men converged, talking as if they were the only two in the room. Scott's forehead wrinkled as he spoke, "If they are true… she was nine! Nine years old, that doesn't seem right."

"Think about it, what do we honestly _know _about her? You said it yourself, she never talks. She lied to us last night, who's to say she didn't lie about her age… or everything," Logan uttered as he slowly started to realize the young woman seated out in the hall might not be the woman he thought she was. There were too many clippings, too many victims. He no longer saw the innocence about her but the aged grace in her eyes, it clicked into place, its presence now had meaning.

Was she as ruthless as the clippings were leading them to believe? Was the naivete about her a ruse to fool them? He knew himself to be a great judge of character, had he been wrong this time? Had her enchanting beauty pulled the wool over his eyes? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

Scott's own thoughts had followed Logan's and his conclusion fell along the lines of his. They needed answers. Overwhelmed, he stared at his friend and posed the troubling question. "Do we talk to her?"

It took Logan a moment to respond as a hand traveled the length of his hair, mussing the already messy strands. His head shook softly, "You do it, things between us are a little awkward."

"Yeah, you mentioned that." Scott wanted to ask about it but let it go. He didn't have the strength to be jealous, didn't even think he wanted to be jealous because at that very moment all he felt for the girl was mistrust. The need to believe in her was being outweighed by the overpowering evidence. "Alright, I'll go."

* * *

Trapped, that's what she was. The walls had become her prison, caging her in. Curled around herself, tightly wound in the small metallic chair, she watched the door they had vanished into. This was her trial, they were her jury and her persecution was at hand. The salt in her eyes had dried but she felt them inside, felt her heart slowly crumble, bleeding and whimpering. After everything she'd been through, after conquering every obstacle that had crossed her path, her demise had come. Not on the battlefield or at the throws of her enemies, but in the vessel of a small, unremarkable and utterly plain box. There was numbness inside of her controlled by unwillingness to believe this was real. It was all happening so fast, one day spent celebrating, the next spent in fear and then the pillars of her life tumbling.

Escape had been considered. All she had to do was stand up, slip into the elevator, get past the farewell committee, steal the keys to Logan's truck and she'd be safe. Having to face them now that they knew, seeing that in their eyes, death was more welcomed. Yet she couldn't bring herself to leave. Her legs wouldn't budge and her arms refused to push her out of the chair. She was stuck and she knew it was because she couldn't leave them. She loved them too much and too deeply.

They would just have to understand but she was dreading the explanation, uncertain if she could go through with it. They were angry, she could hear the yelling and cursing, flinching every time she heard Scott's voice raise, never catching the words. The emotion behind it was as clear as glass. He was fuming, angered by her betrayal and her deceit.

When the voices fell silent, her pulse picked up, this was it, her fate, her sentencing. Folding even further into her own form, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the door to open, waited for Logan's roar, Scott's bitterness, the Professor's disappointment. The door slid open and one pair of tanned and expensive shoes came into view. She knew them, had helped in their purchase, and her strength quaked.

The shoes stalled as the door behind them cut the hallway off from the other room. Frozen, her eyes watched as the shoes closed the gap between them. A light breeze wafted over her when Scott sat down beside her. Never taking her eyes from his shoes, she simply held herself.

Neither one spoke, both staring silently at his shoes. Scott acted first, leaning heavily on his knees and muttering a somewhat agitated, "Hey."

When she didn't respond in kind Scott sighed. Taking in her defensive fetal position he was hit with a saddened reality. "So it's true," he dejected.

Slender arms tightened, darkened eyes adverting away from their stalwart position and still no response.

The anger he'd felt diminished ever so slightly as an undeniable need to hold her hit him hard, clenching his chest. Barely able to ignore it, he spoke again, his voice somewhat dead. "You lied to me, to all of us."

The act of actually hearing her crimes voiced made the once dead tears come back to life. She shifted, turning her face away from him completely. The silent and glacier feel she was giving off irked him, fueling his anger. And still she remained voiceless, not even attempting to defend herself. If she denied it right now, this very second, he'd believe her. No thought would go into it, he'd accept her words as truth and that would be it. He would defend her to his very last breath. They both knew it but she kept to herself, not even daring a sideways glance.

"You're being blackmailed, aren't you?" It was rhetorical, they both knew she was, it was as obvious as the white streaks lining the front of her wavy mane. Even still she squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear breaking past the barrier. "Who?" he questioned, his voice dipping into the anger he was trying to starve off.

There was no answer to his question and even if she wanted to speak, she knew it would be impossible, so she shrugged. Frustrated, Scott fell back into the chair, his head hitting the wall lightly.

"Marie, you have got to talk to me," he snapped harshly and she jerked even further to the side, a string of tears tainting her flawless cheeks. "Did they do that to your hands?" She flinched, pulling the brace closer to her chest. "Did they!"

Finally a sound fell from her lips in the form of a whimper. Rogue quivered as she struggled against his interrogation.

Turning to her, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder he asked again, concern soaking his words. "Did they?" The hand at her shoulder wound its way into her hair, combing it back, bring her face into view. "Baby, you gotta talk, if they did… I can help. We can figure this out… together. You and me."

Gasping breathlessly, her glistening eyes met his. She found hope lingering there, it was just a glimmer but it was almost enough… almost. Shaking her head, he lost her to her own fetal position once more.

Groaning, he ran his hand over his face, trying to take away his frustration. Taking another look at her curled in the too small chair, he stood up and started back towards the room. It was then that her timid voice, crackling and broken, finally found its strength.

"No-o-o..."

Mid-step, he turned on his heals and stared. Still buried in her knees, he wondered if he'd imagined it. "What?"

Peering over the ridge of her jeans she muttered, "No."

"No what, Marie?" he probed, taking a step towards her.

"Ah did it," she breathed, looking at her hands. "Most o' it anyways."

Dropping before her, Scott took the tender flesh into his own masculine hands, kissing it lightly through the gloves and plastic brace. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Astonished, she glared at him hard. "Are yah mad at meh? Honestly?"

He hesitated but spoke truthfully. "A little."

"Does it scare yah, ta know what Ah've done?" The tone to her voice leveled, giving nothing away, even the tears had vanished. Guilt shone in his eyes and she had her answer. "Now think, truly think, Scott. If Ah had told yah… when we'd first met… that fear, it'd be fifty times greater."

Scott shook his head, emphatically trying to deny what he knew to be true. "You don't know that."

"Yes Ah do… this place… yah people… yah were salvation for meh. Mah way out of that life." The southern accent thickened as she spoke, the tears returning with a vengeance. "Ah couldn't risk losin' this place… Ah honestly can't 'member a time when Ah felt secure… safe… until Ah met Logan an' you," she admitted, her other hand brushing against the stubble on his cheek. Barely containing the sobs threatening to wreak havoc on her, she choked out, "Ah don't deserve this place, Ah don't deserve yah, Ah'm sorry for lyin', Ah'm so so-sorry."

Seeing the disheveled girl sitting before him, he began to understand why it had killed Logan. Being witness to it, all Scott wanted to do was take her into his arms and protect her, keep back whatever demon that was chasing her now. Still holding her hand, he kissed it softly once more.

"I want to forgive you," he whispered and the hope stolen from Rogue trickled its way back into her heart. It was quickly sucked back out when he strayed from her and she knew. There was no forgiveness for her. "I want to but…" He wanted to say he needed to know everything, needed her to go through every detail and explain herself but he never got the chance.

When she saw the hesitation on his face, she panicked. There was no doubt to her now that everything she had with him, with this place, was irreversibly tainted. Breaking out of her fetal position, she pushed into him, forcing him back. Jumping from her chair, she ran for the elevator. Stunned, it took Scott a moment to realize what she was trying to do. Scampering to his feet, he took off after her. Hearing him advance, she pushed herself as far as she could go. Skidding before the doors she frantically began pressing the button, small, barely audible pleas falling from her lips.

A scream thundered through her when Scott reached her before the doors could slide open. His strong arms grasped her shoulder, spinning her around so suddenly she only had a moment before she was pushed against his chest. Grasping her arms tightly he snapped, "What the hell are you doing?"

Rogue thrashed in his arms, twisting and turning trying to get free. She couldn't be here, couldn't withstand the downfall that had already started. Scott shook her slight form again demanding to know what she was doing. The noise was sure to attract attention and she knew her options were running low. Suddenly her thrashing stilled and she bowed her head away from him.

"Rogue?" he questioned, his confusion reigning.

Swallowing hard she slowly tilted her head up to meet his eyes. What he saw had no explanation, it was guilt, desperation, pleas for forgiveness and for reasons he would soon learn, desire and a coldness that forced a shiver down his spine. The emerald green in her eyes grew as dark as the forest and a slender hand inched its way up his arm. Scott couldn't think, could barely breathe. The girl before him was no longer his Marie, his friend. He didn't know what she was but when her agile hand weaved its way to the back of his neck and began to knead the muscles there, he didn't care anymore.

Transfixed, he watched as her luscious tongue slowly gave her parched lips much needed moisture. In that moment he was lost and the dangers never crossed his mind for a moment as she slowly lowered him towards her. Mindlessly his hands found her waist, pulling her to him. Soft and incredibly sweet breaths washed over his face and his eyes fell away from her shadowed ones to her glistening lips. One broad hand glided up to her tender shoulder blades, demanding she close the distance before he did. A breath away from her target Rogue breathed out a soft, "Sorry." And before he could digest it, her poisonous lips found his.

Tears formed in her eyes. She was committing the ultimate betrayal, using her powers against a fellow mutant. And worst of all she was enjoying it, the feel of his soft satiny lips on hers, the feel of actual human touch, it was almost too much to bare. Jubilee's theory was affirmed when he parted her lips, demanding entrance, a move that was reserved for lovers. That move killed her because she knew now, knew that he cared for her beyond the title of friendship. Because she was using that against him. Because it was then that her mutation took hold of him.

Her mind screamed as the connection opened up, his mind searing into hers, devouring her own thoughts with his. They screamed of a love for her unmatched, a need for her and the absolute heartbreak she'd created within him with her betrayal. She felt his realization and squeezed her eyes shut trying to drown out his cries for mercy. Her skin bulged, horrid blue veins puncturing her porcelain flesh, she felt it and knew it was mirrored on his face.

Scott tried to pull back, tried to free himself from her poisonous hold but his strength was already faltering. Disbelief overwhelmed him, a struggle to comprehend how she could do this to him. _How…why? _She heard the questions in her mind and felt one foot fall into her grave, a grave she was digging for herself. The mechanic sound of doors opening managed to filter into her jumbled mind.

Unable to just sit back any longer, impatient beyond all belief, Logan had decided to check on Scott. What he found when he turned into the hallway floored him and he bellowed out, "Marie!"

She shoved Scott's weakened form onto the floor, her eyes instinctively flinging open. She should have thought it through, should have seen it coming. But when her eyes opened, all she saw was crimson red blazing before her like wild fire. A surge rumbled through her and she screamed, quickly ramming her eyes closed again. It was too late, the unstable bright light had burst forth. It weaved and scavenged down the hall. No rhyme or reason went into its movements and without warning it collided full force with Logan's massive chest. The sound of his grunt and his metal-laced body being thrown into the back wall rang through Marie's ears.

She screamed again and quickly fell to her knees. Blindly crawling over to Scott, her trembling hands found his heaving chest. Tears rampaged down her cheeks as she fumbled for his glasses. Scott squirmed at the feel of her on him and watched with trepidation when she reached for the ruby-quartz glasses resting on his face.

"No," he murmured, grabbing at her hands, no longer caring about the wounds or the brace.

She easily wretched her hands out of his and grasped the shades. "Close your eyes, sugah," she pleaded, waiting barely a second before taking his security from him. Putting on the oversized shades she forced herself to glance down the hall. Logan's crumbled body, leaning heavily against the wall brought forth the need to vomit. Her chest tightened as she looked back at Scott. The only joy she gained was that he was still breathing and even moving though he was sluggish. He tried to speak, over and over again his mouth opened to say something, anything. Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on his temple and he jerked away from the gesture, tearing her up inside.

Brushing at the overflowing tears, she trudged herself onto her feet and stepped back into the elevator that had opened sometime during her attack… Her attack… She'd attacked them. She had literally attacked two of the few people in her life she'd ever trusted completely. Hatred for herself, disgust, venomous anger, raged within her trembling body. Every word her father had ever thrown her way was now concrete in her mind. She was the monster he'd made her out to be. A horrid, disfigured monster.

Logan's sluggish form struggled to remove himself from the wreckage she had created. Time lagged and slowed to an aching lull as he tripped on his own feet and hit the floor so soundly he let out a deep yelp. Rogue stumbled back into the elevator, moving solely on autopilot. Tears streamed in rivers, merging at the base of her chin and dropping off into oblivion. Her jutting shoulder blades collided with the back of the cylindrical elevator, her trembling hand reaching out and slamming into the close-door button. As the metal started to merge together Logan finally found his bearings and dashed forward, trying to reach her before she was lost completely. Practically jumping over Scott's slumped form on the cold hard ground he hit the doors just as the last centimeter was swallowed whole. For a sliver of a second his pleading eyes found hers, encased in rubies, and she bowed away.

"No!" Logan screamed, banging on the doors, denting the metal with the force of his desperation. Panicked, he moved to the elevator button, punching at it over and over again.

Inside the tube, Rogue mimicked him, her tiny fists meeting heavily with the curved wall behind her, the tears falling even quicker. Sob after sob racked through her and when the doors opened to the first floor, she sprang out, launching herself towards the front doors, her vision blurred and her steps staggering.

Dropping to Scott's side, Logan grimaced. Grabbing at his arm, Logan started to lift Scott off the ground.

"No," the wounded leader croaked. "I'm fine, go after her."

"Scott," Logan cursed his name.

"I'm fine!" The weakened man cried, tearing himself out of Logan's hold. "Go!"

Logan was torn between wanting to help his fallen friend and chase after the crumbling girl. The choice was taken from him when Storm's flowing white hair caught his sight. Jerking to a stop she almost fell over herself at what she found lying before the elevator doors.

"Ororo!" Logan called to her, gesturing to Scott.

Springing to the wounded man's side, she rushed out, "I have him, go, get Rogue."

No other words were needed as Logan shoved off the ground and pounded once more the elevator's button. He burst into the compartment when the doors peeled apart just enough to let him through. Quickly he repeated his treatment to the close-door button. Swear after swear poured from his lips, no hesitation rising when the doors opened. Sprinting madly towards the foyer, he barely missed the groups of teens still gathered there. His pace slipped when he caught a whiff of fresh air, noticed the open front door and shocked looks from the teens.

"Damn-it!" The angered Wolverine roared, scrambling out the front door and down the steps before the adrenaline pumping through his veins vanished.

Sniffing the air, her familiar and comforting scent wound its way into the garage and his heart sank. Peeling down the driveway towards the garage, he didn't bother with the door, smashing his heavy body into the wood, splitting it apart.

Moment's before, she had rushed into the garage, trembling hands locking the door behind her. Breathing ragged, heart pumping, she raced to the wall of keys and searched wildly for the right ones. Each mismatch was tossed aside angrily, creating a pile of keys on the floor. Frantically she swatted at the keys, begging and pleading to find the right one. A flustered curse fell from her lips as the last key came tumbling down. It wasn't here. They must have hid it on her, to prevent her from taking his truck again. White-hot tears flowed and she growled deeply, kicking at the fruitless keys piled up on the cold hard concrete.

That's when she heard it, the soft but distinct sound of a little bell. The bell she'd placed on Logan's keys to prevent him from losing them as often as he did. Gasping in relief she kicked again and the sound resonated, flowing from behind her. Turning around she found her treasure resting at her feet. Reaching with a quivering hand, she grasped the keys and raced to the front of the massive garage. Bumping into the side of the truck, she clasped the keys in her shaking hand and attempted to place them in the keyhole.

It was pointless, the trembles flowing through her body kept making her hand jump whenever she got close, scratching and tearing at the paint around the keyhole. Holding her face in her hand, she let out a hiccuped sob and then a high-pitched and completely guttural scream when the door to the garage was splintered apart. Grabbing hold of the door handle, she squeezed it tight in her hands, unwilling to turn around. She jerked when Logan let out an earthy growl.

"You running?" he snapped, unable to push aside the anger. It was flowing through his veins, mingling with his blood and there was no getting past it.

Her hold on the handle strengthened and her back remained facing him.

Logan's arms crossed in anger and he took a generous step towards her. "You don't actually think I'm going to let you?"

Taking her hands off the handle she silently pocketed the keys and started to assess her situation. Logan was pissed and for him to be pissed with her, only meant that everyone else was even madder. She had to think and fast.

"Look at me when I talk to you!" he spat. The anger he harbored wasn't because of what she'd done, he was mad that she'd lied, that running had been her choice. All he wanted was for her to stay and to deal with what was happening. He didn't know that his tone was making her want to run even more, didn't think that his words could fuel it.

Forcing herself to stand tall and ignore the salt marking her face, she turned slowly.

The bright glare from the now stolen shades threw him off. "How could you do that to Scott?" he asked, reaching for the shades.

She backed away sharply, hitting the cab of his truck. Protected by the visor, she allowed her gaze to fall to her now ungloved hand. She berated herself for even thinking it but her choices had run out.

"Yah don't understand," she finally whispered.

"Obviously!" he cried, gesturing hotly with his hands. "I don't get a damned thing!"

"Stop…" she voiced softly.

"You have this whole different life that I don't even know about!"

"Please stop…" she begged.

"I thought that you trusted me, I thought that we had something!" His voice rose higher and higher.

"Just stop…" she pleaded, a little louder this time.

"I don't even think I know _you_ anymore!" he bellowed, viciously.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" she shrieked.

"Why? Is the truth stinging? It tends to do that," he quipped, sarcasm lacing his words heavily. "You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, so get your _ass_ inside now!"

"No…"

"No?" Logan's head titled to the side, his brow rising swiftly. Shaking his head, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Reaching out to grab her arm, his hand unwittingly fell against her bare skin. She fought it, cursing herself for having taken off the glove in the first place. His hold tightened when she tried to wretch away from him.

"Get off!" she yelled, growing more frantic as her curse started to kick in.

Logan didn't seem to notice as he started to drag her towards the destroyed exit. She pulled against him, planting her feet against the ground. It proved pointless, his strength exceeding her own. Through her tainted vision of the word she spotted the veins on his arm starting to rise. Their color was red to her shaded eyes but she knew them and screamed.

"What the hell is your -" Logan's voice cracked as the lines in his face formed and he choked on the vowels. He felt his powerful strength flow from his body and into hers. Eyes wide, he stared down at his bare hand on her arm. He released her in a jerky motion and backed away as if he'd been burned. When his eyes found hers, all she found was accusation and pain. "How could you?" he muttered. He groaned, swayed and then stumbled to the ground.

"Ah… Ah… Ah didn't… Ah didn't mean ta!" she reasoned, backing away from the guilt shining in his eyes.

His hazel eyes fought to focus as the drain continued to weigh him down. Sinking further into the floor, his pain-stricken face bared into her. "Marie?" he whispered, his vision shifting from dark to light.

"Ah-Ah'm sorry!" she cried, swiveling her body into the cab of the truck, she worked the keys into the lock and with barely even a thought, shoved herself in. Turning the engine over, she glanced back at Logan's form slowly succumbing to what she had caused. A sob tore through her as the little amount of powers she'd taken from started to knit her hands back together. Tearing the plastic brace from her healing hand, she forcibly tossed in to the other side of the cab. Sobbing soundly she ripped out of the garage, barely even conscious of the fact that she'd just barreled through the garage door, decimating it into fire wood.

Crumpled on the cold stone floor Logan was forced to watch as his truck peeled away, taking one of the only things that ever mattered to him with it.

* * *

Author's Note: OMG! Heh, so I've just messed things up. What can I say, if you don't understand why she took such drastic measures tell me and before the next chapter I'll explain as best I can. It all makes sense up here :taps forehead:

jupiterhime: Thank you for the vote of confidence, I was seriously starting to question myself. More so after this. You're right of course about poetic license, just don't tell that to a few of the Voyager fanatics. I tried once and almost lost my head, its was like feeding time at the piranha take and the boys hadn't been fed in a week. More Scott? Was that enough? hehe

April: You really like the twists even though they're slowly killing you cause of the cliffhangers? Sorry for this one, honestly I can't end a chapter without one.

Ankle: Aww, that's incredibly sweet of you, it's good to know I have some converting abilities, thanks!

cari: I'm glad you're liking, five days isn't too long of a wait is it? The next may take longer cause I haven't started it yet. I'll try not to make you wait.

Tara: If you could see me now you'd see a big ass smile on my face. You're review was short but damn if I didn't love every word of it. Keep an eye on that heart of yours, there's gonna be a few more evil twists up ahead.

Melarien: Two more words: LOVE YOU! Hehe

Shaishe: Hopefully this is can ease your curiosity until the next chapter, or it may just fuel it… Thank you for the love, I can never get enough of it.

Once again I can't thank you guys enough for the reviews, I live for them and they make my writing go faster. Thank you


	7. Buying Time

Moving On Chapter 7

By Gimpy

* * *

Rogue was beyond confused. That one word wasn't large enough to wrap around what she was feeling. It was conflict, disbelief, uncertainty and loss all wrapped together. The past was her Achilles, the one thing that could destroy her. It was dark, depressing, maddening and horrific. Everything about it demanded she had to keep it secret, that she shove it into a small little box and lock it away. That's what she'd done. That box, Pandora's box, that had been hers. All the clippings were her reminders of what she'd done, they were her guilt and her penance. Whenever she'd felt pity for the life she led, she used to pull out the clippings and remind herself why she deserved that life. She knew she did, she deserved the nights spent curled up in alleys, the days she went without food, the poverty, the pain, the struggle—all of it she deserved. Never once did she question that because she had the box, the memories and the skeletons in her closet that kept her grounded.

The day she lost the box was the same day she found resurrection—a new life. That day was the day she met Logan and the X-men. The trucker she'd hitched a ride with had been nice, not overtly, but he wasn't crude and didn't expect anything from her. It was a welcome change from every other man she'd ever hitched with. She'd grown comfortable in his cramped 18-wheeler and had even regretted having to get out when they reached Laughlin. The relaxed mood his presence had given her had also blinded her. By the time she realized she'd lost her portable closet of horrors, she was already warming her hands before Logan's heater.

She supposed it served her right, having it dangled before her, ruining her life. It was her fault for ignoring who and what she was, for allowing herself to become comfortable. That right wasn't hers, especially after the torment she had caused. Which made her present easier to swallow.

Her present… she didn't know what to make of it. That was where most of the conflict, disbelief and loss resided. Conflict between her heart and her head, the unfair and completely reasonable—Logan and Scott. The love she held for them was a conflict in and of itself. What kind of love did she feel, the romantic and endeared, or the familial and friendly? To which man did each type belong? Valid question but the answers didn't matter anymore because she'd ruined everything. And once again she deserved it.

The disbelief that pertained to her men also applied to her situation. It was hard for her to imagine that someone would go to such great lengths as to find her box. There was the question of how and why they'd found it. The suspect list was as long as her arm, derived from the many lives she'd ruined. It was even more difficult to believe that it had only been three days because it felt like an eternity of one hell after another. Which brought her straight to loss… What she'd lost was self-explanatory because she had lost everything. The life she'd fallen in love with, her makeshift family, the amazing friends and her home. Worse than all the things she'd lost in those unending three days had to be her own identity. She honestly didn't know who she was anymore. She wasn't Rogue, the hard-edged and brutal streetwise girl and she definitely wasn't Marie, the innocent wallflower that needed to be protected. Those were the only sides to herself she knew, what else outside of them was there?

Though uncertainty lined every linear aspect of time that surrounded the slight woman, it lay more heavily with her future. Did she even have one? She had destroyed her only chance at secondary schooling and a career. What else was there for her?

Only one word came to her and that was revenge. It would be sweet and it would satisfy the anger thriving in her, but was it hers to have? Another question with no definite answer except that she wanted it, needed it.

Sighing softly, she realized she'd been sitting in the cab of Logan's truck for a few hours now inventing more questions then she had answers for. Peering over the dash, she took note of the heavy clouds hiding the stars from view, shivering when an angered flash scoured the overcast sky. The world seemed inspired by her dourness, taking it on as if it were its own. She took a small amount of comfort from that fact.

She rested her arms over the steering wheel, her head lying on top of them. Her emerald green eyes traveled the crumbling concrete sidewalk that she'd parked next to, taking in the street she now found herself on. It was dirty and not exactly the suburbs she just came from, if anything, she could safely say she was in the boonies. Familiar ground. The building that towered next to Logan's beat up truck was her destination, the one place she could hide from the professor. There was nothing immaculate about it, a far cry from the ornate mansion, but for now it would be home, at least until she could thoroughly digest her present.

This was the last place she wanted to be and the person she was about to impose upon was one of the last people she ever wanted to see again. If the X-men knew what she was about to do, any hope she still harbored at getting back into their good graces would be completely lost. Sighing again, she grabbed at the door handle, hesitating because once the door opened it couldn't be closed again.

_"Rogue,"_ A soft and firm voice resonated in her mind, filling her completely. _"We need to speak…"_

Hiding the string of tears behind her eyelids, she burrowed deeper into her arms. "Charles," she drawled, irritated by his unannounced visit and his patronizing words.

A saddened exhale flowed into her, whirling around her over active thoughts. _"I wish you would have allowed us to deal with this rationally."_

Her guilt multiplied, swamping her down. "Ah couldn't, Ah have ta deal with it on mah own. It's mah problem not yours, or Logan's or Scott's. It's mine an Ah'm sorry for burdenin' y'all with it…" A question formed within her heart, one she was too afraid to ask the aged man.

_"Both Logan and Scott are fine, just upset by the way that you left,"_ he answered for her.

Sniffling back the onslaught of tears attempting to drown her, she muttered softly. "Ah'm sorry for any damage, Ah'll send yah money for it all… tell 'em Ah'm sorry for everthang an that… Ah won't bother none o' yah again."

Charles wanted to respond, tried to let her know coming back was an option but he felt her walls come up, forcing him from her mind and her life. He cringed at what he felt before she shut him out, the unsettling emotions rolling off her in waves. It was the utter loss that stung him, deep down in the pit of his stomach. It came with the distinct feeling that he might never see her again.

* * *

Scott's vision fogged as he tried to concentrate again on the words before him. For a couple of hours now he'd been reading the clippings, finding it difficult to get through them. It was hard because they were affirmations of what Rogue had done, plus his thoughts kept slipping back to the kiss. Nothing in his life had ever been so satisfying and heart wrenching at the same time. There was no doubt in his mind that he felt something for the young woman, perhaps even running deeper then what he'd felt for his late wife. It hurt him to think about it for so many reasons. Guilt for wanting it more then having Jean back, thinking it was greater than anything he'd ever experienced with her. He felt even more guilt because he'd let his want to kiss Marie cloud the fact that she was using him so she could run. His need had outweighed hers, and instead of being safe in the mansion with him, she was out in the world alone and scared.

What kind of man places sexual gratification before the well-being of someone he could potentially love? A coward does and that was something he wasn't. Scott had started to really like the man Rogue had turned him into, the man he was when she was around. But if his earlier actions meant anything, he no longer wanted to be that man. All he wanted was for her to come back, whether it was to be with him or not, he just wanted her back.

He'd hoped reading the clippings before him would bring him closer to her, give him some insight into who she really was. All it had done was confuse him more, his heart sinking even further into his belly. Groaning, he slammed the slip of paper onto the table, unable to read any more about the suspected serial rapist she had killed. A patronizing chuckle echoed from behind him and his groan deepened.

"Don't worry Cyke, I'm sure you'll learn to read someday," Logan quipped halfheartedly, the will to put everything he had into the ribbing completely lacking. Having just come from the professor and his failed attempt at reasoning with Rogue, he was feeling pretty damn infuriated.

"Hi, how am I? Well, a little worse for wear and envious of your healing factor but aside from that, I'm fine, thanks for asking. You?" There was no denying the bitter sarcasm lacing Scott's words. He was disdained and just as infuriated as Logan was, his attitude only amplifying it. When Logan raised his customary eyebrow at him, Scott sighed heavily and leaned on the table. "I'm sorry, this whole thing has me on edge."

"You and me both One-eye."

"You know this is partly our fault right?" Scott muttered, eyeing Logan hotly.

Logan knew but was unwilling to admit that he'd failed in his promise to protect, especially not to his competition. "Our? I'm not the one that let her kiss me."

"Please! You let your guard down, how else can you explain the 'Wolverine' not noticing her gloveless hand?" Scott snapped back, lacking any real form of anger. The banter the two men shared was second nature to him and just seemed like the thing to do.

The retort Logan had on the tip of his tongue wouldn't fall. It was too cavalier, reverting to their quick jabs after all that was happening. It made it seem like they didn't care, like he didn't care but he did. Slumping into a chair next to the other man Logan grumbled, "You're right… I let my anger get the better of me."

"We both let our emotions have the first say but she wanted to run, she's strong willed, I don't doubt she would have found a way no matter what," Scott reasoned, regret surging through him.

"Probably," Logan consented, not fully wanting to believe what he knew to be true. "I just came from Wheel's office. He tried to talk to her using his teleke-whatever but she shut him out. He's gonna try Cerebro next."

All Scott could do was nod, picking at a loose-leaf sheet silently. Turning to Logan, he voiced a question that had been bothering him since Rogue had left. "Does it always feel like that?"

There went the brow again. "Does what always feel like what?"

"Marie's mutation… does it always feel like a piece of yourself is literally being seared from your brain?" A shudder coursed through him when he remembered the sensations that had coursed through him. Gazing at Logan, he watched the other man shift uncomfortably at his question.

He paused, truly having to think about his answer. Logan was a three-time veteran now and it had always been something sacred between Rogue and himself. Now that sacredness was lost, he wasn't special, in fact he felt pretty common when he looked at all the others who had experienced her power. And now Scott was a part of the group. His place in her life was getting harder to define. Staring at his hands, he nodded softly, "Yeah, it is."

"Wow," Scott muttered, holding the same clipping in his hand a little tighter. "I wonder if it's the same for her."

"It is…" Logan's voice barely sounded in the silence.

"How do you know?"

Shrugging, Logan picked at his nails. "She asked me once what it was like for me. When I told her she said it was that way for her… except that when that piece is seared from her, the piece of us she absorbs is welded on in the empty spot. Essentially she slowly looses herself."

That information hit Scott a little below the belt. When he turned and saw just how many parts she had lost and how many unfamiliar and strange parts had been added, he frowned deeply. "It's a wonder there's anything left of herself."

"Yeah…"

Both men fell silent, their thoughts taking identical paths down the road of uncertainty. It was becoming increasingly difficult for either of them to function properly. There was so much to deal with and not knowing where or how she was, it was driving them nuts. All they could do was wait for the professor to come back with her location. And that only solved half of the problem; there was still someone blackmailing Rogue.

"There's still something that bothers me about this," Scott mumbled, waving at the damning pile of papers.

"Aside from its existence in general?" Logan quipped, a little more at ease than before.

Scott ignored his mocking words, continuing his thought before he lost it. "She's being blackmailed but for what? Money? A favor? Sending this box… this is what they were trying to use against her. Why send it to us? They tipped their hand and now they can't get anything out of it. All they succeeded in doing is driving a wedge between Marie and us."

"Maybe that was their intention?"

Scott's face went blank, trying to wrap his mind around that one. He was pretty sure Logan had meant it as a rhetorical question but maybe… "Holy… you're right, by sending this box they got to her and now she's gone. She's alone and vulnerable… This was never about money, it was never even about blackmail. It's about hurting her. Getting to where she lives, where her heart lives. And we let it happen." Scott was getting edgier, the guilt in him festering and growing. To his amazement Logan was calm, eerily silent. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"No Scott," Logan snapped, rising from his chair. "I love the idea of being manipulated like that. It's always been a dream of mine… Of course I bloody well mind! But bitching about it is not gonna change anything. There's only one thing we can do and that's wait for the professor."

"And you can do that? Just sit back and wait?"

"I don't have a choice and neither do you!"

"What about this?" Scott bit back, shoving the box across the table. "We could follow up on that. Check with the company, find out who sent the damned thing." The suggestion had been shot out in anger but slowly both men simmered down. Shocked, Scott pulled back, wanting to hit himself for not having thought of it before.

Sharing a quick glance with Logan, the other man started out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "I'll get the phone book!"

For the first time since that morning Scott smiled an actual full-fledged smile. They might not be able to help find Rogue but they could help find the people trying to hurt her.

* * *

Thunder started to roll in, crashing above her in warning of the torrential rains that were headed her way. Resigning herself to actually going inside, Rogue pulled her thin cotton coat over her head and shot out of the truck. She made sure to lock it, not trusting the street even though she knew it well enough. Racing up the small flight of stairs, she stopped at the buzzer. Dancing in the cold, trying to keep warm, she instinctively knew which button to press and then waited. A booming crash rippled in the air, the lightening that came before it almost blinding her. She prayed for the clouds to hold their bounty until she got inside. As if hearing her prayer they spitefully opened and an assault of raindrops beat down on her shivering form.

Cursing, she hit the buzzer three more times until someone finally answered.

"What?" A harsh and almost cruel voice greeted her.

"Is that how yah always greet guests?" Rogue snapped back, a sneer lingering under her chattering teeth. "Buzz me up! It's rainin' buckets out here!"

A heavy pause followed before the sound of the buzzer filtered through the thunderous claps. Instead of feeling grateful that she was getting out of the bitter cold, all she felt was loathing. This was not where she wanted to be; Hell held more pleasure for her. _'Probably has a better view too,' _she mused sourly. Running a clammy hand through her damp hair, she shook out the drops as she took the stairs, not quite trusting the freight elevator she knew was at the end of the hall.

With every creak in the steps, she second-guessed herself. But she knew that if she went anywhere else Charles would have no trouble finding her. Her only option lay at the stop of the steps near the end of the hall in the 'penthouse', though you'd only ever use the term loosely. Ringing out her shirt, she slowly inched her way to the last door. When she reached it, she couldn't bring herself to knock. It just seemed too absurd. She couldn't count the number of times that she'd just walked in. It was natural to her then but wasn't anymore. Loosely running her hand through her soaked hair, she gathered enough courage and tapped her knuckles against the door.

The moment her hand hit the door, it swung open as the same gruff voice barked out, "Were you followed?"

She should have been surprised but she wasn't. It wasn't like she'd been expecting a hug but a hello would have been nice. Scoffing bitterly, she muttered, "Nice to see you too Mystique."

To be continued…

* * *

Author's Notes: Took me long enough! I know, I know… _: shakes head sadly:_ but what can I say aside from I'm sick. I sound like a heartbroken car whose muffler ran away for a truck. Anyway it made writing hard - picture me sitting in front of the computer mid sentence and staring off into space for what is now 18 minutes. That was me every time I tried, I zoned out hehe it's been sad but not in the sniff, sniff, wipes away a fresh tear kind of away :) Anyway here you go, enjoy and that you all for the reviews to come.

Roguechere: I missed you last time too - I really love the reviews you leave me and not getting one - my broken muffler _:cough: _I mean my heart lol. I can forgive you of course - as for your ch. 6 review … powerful… I like that and I agree - it's a really great thing that you could picture it. That's something I strive for - for everyone to see it as if it was real. Ch. 7 … I think my favorite part about writing that chapter was the kiss! It was soo much fun! That you for saying that, you make me blush sometimes you now that? Love it!

April: You can get off your knees now, at least for a good ten minutes while you read this chapter, after that you may end up on them again… hehe… I think you're right though, Marie would never do anything mean unless she absolutely had to, which is the case. Word I love having attached to my name: Vivid. So thanks for that!

The Mishinator: You're gone! So you won't be able to read this till you get back so hurry! _As if you can read that and actually hurry your butt back here lol. _You're really on a man are evil trip, its cute! Thank you for the review and I'll see you when you get back, miss you!

The Mishinator Again: LOL! You are too adorable! Get your butt home!

Aquarius Angel: They'll try to go after her I promise you that, the truth will be slow to come out(sorry), her blackmailer will be revealed nearer to the end and her last name is a tie to something she doesn't want them to know about, a clue to a life she hates almost more the herself for what she did. I think it scares her thinking they could just go and look her up somewhere and find out about her family, her father namely. I may or may not touch on that but we'll see. I might just do it for you! Thanks…

jupiterhime: I'm glad you weren't too stunned not to leave me this review, thank you for getting past it :)

Tara: You're pour heart! It won't catch a break, tell your heart I'm sorry okay? I promise everything will get better its just gonna have to get a little worse first… sorry!

Vyktorya07: Thank you for this, it came long after I posted and with me being sick it was extra incentive to get this finished. I love my Scott/Rouge/Logan triangle too! Enjoy this, okay?

Author's Notes(continued…): I'm still sick, and I'm still coughing like a mufflerless car but I'm working hard to get this typed up, I promise you that…


	8. Candle Light Confessions

Moving On - Chapter 8

By Gimpy

* * *

Warmth washed over her in waves, chasing away the cool that had set in her bones. Glimmering light flickered across her face, highlighting and darkening her sour features. Her forest green eyes danced in the light as she watched, entranced by the flames of the fire before her. They peaked and then vanished, consumed by larger flickers as they tried to stretch their reach out to surpass the small fireplace. Rogue curled up closer to the radiating heat, wrapping the afghan tighter around her shivering form. She had discarded her drenched clothes for a pair of warm cotton sweats and still she couldn't shake the chill. The sound of rain hitting the sides of the apartment, the crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning only made it worse, each forcing a shiver down her spine.

Turning away from the fire, she took in the spacious apartment now blanketed in a darkened haze, the only source of light besides the fire coming from scarcely placed candles. The power had gone out a while ago. Even in the blackness she could still make out the tall, slender woman moving about in her large chefs kitchen. The blackout had hit midway through the brewing of a pot of coffee so the woman was now boiling water for Rogue's favorite tea, Earl Grey. A tender smile graced her when Mystique removed the bubbling water from the stovetop and started to pour it into a mug.

The woman looked up and softly whispered, "No sugar or cream?"

Lightly shaking her head, Rogue went back to staring at the flames, allowing them to entrance her again. Mystique agilely made her way across the hard wood, balancing the two mugs of tea and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. Letting the bag of cookies drop onto the younger woman's lap, she placed her own mug on the coffee table then handed the other to Rogue.

"Thanks," Rogue murmured, taking the mug and just holding it in her hands. The heat was exquisite and she quickly brought it to her lips to taste the warmth. A smile burst onto her face when she spotted which mug Mystique had picked out. Two cartoon baby ducks were chasing large cartoon bubbles with the goofiest looks on their faces. "Ah love this mug," Rogue chirped, turning the mug to watch as the bubbles wound themselves around the ceramic.

"I know," Mystique softly replied, falling into her wing backed chair on the other side of the fire. The two sat silently, sipping from their teas, enjoying the warm and comforting pause. Mystique spoke first, resting her mug on her bent knee. "I'm surprised you're here."

Glancing over the rim of her mug, Rogue responded, "Why? Cause yah tried ta kill me an' destroy the world which in turn led ta the death o' a great woman?" There was no sarcasm lacing her words, barely even anything bitter, it was a genuine question.

"That and how we left things between us." Mystique's tone deepened, sad lines creasing the blue skin.

Calmly Rogue watched the older woman as she dwelled in her guilt at what had happened between them. Frowning, she turned in her chair and eyed the woman. "Aren't they the same thing?" At the confused look on her counterpart's face Rogue leaned forward to take her hand. Instead she grabbed a cookie and leaned back. "What happened at Liberty Island an' Alkali Lake, your complete disregard for others, that's why Ah left. It's the same old argument we've always had."

"True… you understand why I did what I did though right?" Mystique's yellow eyes begged Rogue, pleading with her to understand her actions, however heinous. "I was doing my job, following what I believe in."

"Ah didn't quite get that back when yah still controlled mah life. All Ah wanted was ta get away an Ah never really thought 'bout your reasons… but Ah do now. When it comes ta your work nothin' else matters, not me, Jean or yah own life. Which is why your life could never be mine. Ah can't give mahself over ta somethin' like that, so completely as to disregard the safety of those Ah love."

"Isn't that what you've done? Living and working for Professor Xavier?" Mystique questioned, sipping at her tea.

The question shocked Rogue, forcing her into silence. Her brow furrowed and she answered sternly, "No. What yah do an' what Charles does are completely different."

A cold shrug followed her words and Mystique added, "You disregarded me."

"Ah never did such a thing an' Ah never would," Rogue protested.

The older woman's brow rose as she drawled out, "So that day on the Blackbird--"

Again Rogue stumbled for what to say, her mouth opening and closing several times before she let out an exasperated sigh. "_That _was 'bout Erik an' if Ah remember correctly, yah were mockin me an' hangin' off that bastard like some hussy outta a rap video," she snapped back. "What's this 'bout, Raven?"

Mystique hesitated, stalling herself by taking a cookie out of the bag and taking a nibble from the side. She chewed it slowly and Rogue just watched, waiting for her to swallow and answer her question. When she finally did, the crumbling mass in her mouth just slipped away, forcing her to talk. "I'm just making sure you know what side you're on and if that's the right side for you, that's all."

Rogue stared at the ocean blue woman with a very miffed expression on her face. "There is no way Ah could ever confuse which side Ah'm on an' if it's the right side for meh. At the mansion, we care 'bout others, we go out o' our way to protect others. Yah don't, no one matters ta yah as long as yah get the job done…" Rogue paused, the blood in her veins on the verge of boiling. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself before she spoke again. "That's not somethin Ah could ever do… An yet it just comes so easily to yah… Ah don't know how yah manage it," she muttered sadly, shaking her head. "Ah know yah understand what it is ta care… Ah just don't get how yah can just turn it off the way yah do…"

And as much as she wanted to, she could never hate Mystique. The older woman had been an anchor for her when she'd had nothing left in life. Rogue may have hated her actions, her choices, hated that she had a stake in what happened to Jean and the destruction it had caused, but she couldn't hate the woman behind it. It sickened her, that she could forgive so willingly, that harboring hate like everyone else she knew was not a trait she possessed. When it came to others she couldn't stand to see them hurt and there was always an underlining belief that there was good in everyone. If given the chance she'd probably forgive Erik, which made her wonder, if it's so easy to forgive others why couldn't she forgive herself?

A look of sorrow crept across Mystique's face and she bowed her head away to mutter softly, "All I've ever known is hatred Marie and it's easier then caring."

"Do yah ever wanna stop?" Rogue softly asked, completely forgetting the ducklings resting on her mug of cooling tea. "Ah mean, do yah ever think that maybe what yah do only aggravates the situation? All the terrorist acts yah do only fuels their hatred for us?"

"Marie," Mystique ground out, not wanting to follow the path to an argument they'd had so many times before. "It's my life, my beliefs and I know they aren't yours, I know I drove you out of my life because of it but nothing you ever say will change who I am."

Bowing away, forcing her eyes to drink in the dancing flames, Rogue conceded to that, softly nodding her head. As much as she wanted her to change it would never happen and she knew that once they parted way they would revert to being enemies again.

Mystique's surprisingly soft but scaled hand found her covered arm and squeezed. When Rogue's eyes met hers she smiled softly. "You can't say that I've never done anything good, I took you in off the streets didn't I? Gave you a place to live, fed and clothed you."

"An Ah'm grateful for that," Rogue smiled back though it never quite reached her eyes. "Ah am… even though Ah have more voices in mah head on account of mah time with yah then Ah ever did livin on the streets…" A tear formed at the edge of her green eyes and she bowed even further away from the older woman. Memories flowed through her, cutting like a knife into her resolve.

"I'm sorry for that… I never meant to-" Mystique started, reaching out to the young woman.

Rogue pulled back and stopped the apology before she could get it all out. "Ah don't blame yah… much… an Ah don't hate yah for it. Ah learned a lot from yah an for a while ah was loved." It was all she could do not to cry as she remembered all the events leading up to this point. The tears were threatening to fall and she held herself tighter. "Ah've messed it up, Ah've messed it all up," she cursed, the words spitting from her mouth.

Placing her mug on the coffee table, Mystique took Rogue's from her shaking hands and did the same. Taking her gloved hand in hers she whispered softly, "What happened?"

Sniffling, Rogue eyed their entwined hands, trying to remember a time when the older woman had showed such open affection for her. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she muttered sorrowfully, "They know."

Shock shined on the cerulean woman's face followed swiftly by a lack of surprise. "It was bound to have happened, you couldn't keep our connection a secret for that long, not with the enemies we've made together," she reasoned, trying to ease the young woman.

"They don't know 'bout yah," she muttered, hesitating before speaking again. "Someone… sent 'em mah box."

An exasperated scoff echoed in the darkened room, a crash of thunder following it. "You and that stupid box. I told you it would bring you nothing but trouble! But no! You needed to punish yourself. Don't you think you've suffered enough?" Mystique barked out.

Rogue faltered for an answer, her frustration growing. "No! Ah don't, but someone is deliberately tryin ta ruin mah life… an it's workin… Everyone knows now exactly what kinda monster Ah am, an' Ah couldn't… Ah couldn't stand ta see it on their faces."

"So you ran." It was a statement, not a question, and it held a tint of accusation that hit Rouge hard.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit out, "Like always, yes. Ah ran, happy?"

"No, of course not." Mystique's hand tightened on hers. "Your pain would never make me happy… It's just… you run so much, Marie. When things get tough for you, you take off. And I had hoped…" Mystique cut herself off, pulling back from the trembling girl.

"Yah had hoped what?" Rogue pushed, turning to the steely woman.

Sighing, Mystique ran a slender blue hand through her fire red hair. "As much as I disagree with that professor of yours… He offers you something stable, something I can't. I had hoped that you could have made a life for yourself there. Don't look at me like that, I do care about you. You were my daughter for three years, you still are in my heart."

Silence followed, Rogue trying to process the outward declaration of love though the word was never used. "Ah care for yah too…"

"Then stop running," Mystique quipped, her voice taking on a motherly tone. "I know you're clinging on to a hope that you can keep me in your life, but Marie, my path has been set in stone. Yours is up for grabs and what you decide now will affect the rest of your life. I want that to be great and it if means me stepping back, then so be it."

Leaning onto her bent knees, Rogue eyed Mystique through the corner of her eye. "Ah don't wanna lose yah, yah mean so much ta me."

"I know," Mystique cooed, brushing her thumb warmly over Rogue's gloved hand. "But we lead different lives and I'd never be accepted in yours. You can forgive because it's your nature," she murmured, her free hand lovingly brushing back a few damp strands of hair. "They wouldn't and I don't want them to. I don't make excuses for what I do and I won't make them for anyone."

It was hard for Rogue to hear, but it was the truth and she had to accept that. The only common ground they shared was their love for each other and it just wasn't enough. "Ah can't go back. Not yet."

"Marie they can help you, more than I can. You need support in this."

"What Ah need is ta fix this on mah own. If Ah'm gonna find out whose tryin ta hurt me I'm gonna have ta dig inta mah past. That means goin' places yah haven't even been. Ah won't drag them into this."

"Why? To save your pride or your dignity?" Mystique snapped.

"No, more like mah privacy. There are just some things Ah don't want them ta know an' right now my only lead is a necklace mah mom gave me. Whoever is doing this found it an Ah don't know how… no one but Mama an' me knew 'bout it which means Ah gotta go home--" Tilting her head in Mystique's direction she sighed. "Which Ah can't do with them by mah side, an' the moment Ah step outta that door, Charles will find me."

"You," Mystique droned, grabbing the now empty mugs from the table. "Can't hide behind my metal walls just because they protect you from Cerebro. You have to deal with this." Idly she made her way into the kitchen and proceeded to clean the mess she'd made making the tea.

Curling in on herself, Rogue let Mystique's words settle in her mind. "Ah will… Can Ah use your phone?"

"Of course, you know where it is," Mystique responded, a motherly tone still lingering in her voice.

It was a struggle for Rogue to stand but she forced herself out of the comfortable chair. She felt Mystique's eyes on her as she padded her way across the dimly lit room. Standing before the sleek black phone, she harnessed as much strength as she could and picked it up, dialing a number she knew off by heart. With every ring her heart sang further into her stomach. When it was finally picked up, she nearly jumped, her tightly wound nerves screaming.

"Hello," a warm, male voice flowed from the speaker and managed to ease her quickened heart. His was a voice she would never tire of, it was baritone, distinct and compelling. The questioning hello was repeated and she sighed.

"It's me," she murmured, her tone barely above a whisper.

"Rogue," The Professor crowed, her name falling from his lips like a warm wind and she knew he was smiling. "You've had me worried."

"Ah know… its good ta hear your voice," Rogue replied, her own smile echoing his.

"And yours." The Professor paused, taking his time to formulate a question that he knew she would answer. "I suppose asking where you are would be pointless, though I am curious as to how you've deflected Cerebro."

"It would an' Ah just might tell yah one day," she teased, the common thread she shared with her mentor and surprising friend breaking past her nerves.

"So there will be a one day? You aren't leaving us forever?" Though there was humor in his words there was a serious undertone that spoke of his fears, fears of never seeing her again.

"An' miss our regular chess games? Never," she teased, her own voice lacking the humor.

"You need to come home," he murmured. "A certain pair of men are getting very testy and I'm afraid they may permanently scar Miss Lee if she continues to nag them."

She smiled at the thought of both Logan and Scott ripping into the small Asian girl but it faltered quickly. "Ah know, Ah do," she whispered back. "Ah just need time ta figure this out, ta fix it. But in order ta do that, Ah need a huge, huge favor of yah, one that if the others were ta find out about, they'd get mad, real mad but ah wouldn't be askin' if it weren't absolutely necessary," she bubbled out the long sentence, only taking a breath near the end when she was certain she'd said everything she could.

There was another pause and she feared he was going to deny her this one request. "I'll do anything I can to help as long as you promise to come home when this is taken care of."

Relief washed over her along with a saddened smile. "If Ah'm still welcomed after everythin' is said an' done, Ah promise yah that Ah will."

"Then all that I have is yours."

The smile on her face fell and the young woman grew serious. The favor she needed meant deceiving everyone and she wasn't even sure she wanted to do that. In the end she knew without a doubt she had to, so she asked and he hesitated.

"If they were to find out," he droned, not liking the mental image forming in his mind at the bodily harm that could result from all this.

"Ah know… an' Ah'll understand if you say no but Ah just need 'til mornin', a full twenty-four hours at most," Rogue replied, trying to ignore the sound of her desperate voice.

"I can give you until morning only because Mr. McCoy has them barricaded in the med lab. They haven't been resting much," Xavier mused, a smile appearing on both their faces. "I may be able to get you until this time tomorrow, they have a few of their own leads they want to follow."

Relief washed over the lithe girl and she gushed out, "Thank yah, Ah mean truly thank yah."

"You are more then welcome… just know that I will only hold off on using Cerebro. If they find a way to track you without it I will not step in."

"Ah understand an Ah wouldn't expect anythin less from yah," she warmly responded and then proceeded to thank him again. Solemnly they said their good-byes with Rogue promising to stay safe and Charles promising to hold them off as long as he morally could.

Rogue placed the phone back down, wrapped herself tighter in the afghan and somberly made her way into the large and open kitchen.

"What now?" Mystique asked, coming to stand next to the forlorn woman.

Running a tempered hand over her face Rogue removed herself from the warm afghan and tossed it aside. "Ah get dressed an' then hit the road, try an' get ta Meridian before mah time runs out." At her own words, Rogue moved to the dryer where her clothes, still damp due to the blackout, were hidden.

"You mean 'we', don't you?" Mystique said, stilling Rogue's movements.

Turning on the older woman, an utterly shocked look formed on her face and she echoed, "We?"

Shrugging, Mystique walked past the shorter woman and into her room. She returned with a new and completely dry change of clothes. "I'm between jobs right now, besides what kind of surrogate mother would I be if I let you do this on your own?"

Rouge took the offered clothes, stripping out of the others and putting them on without a second thought. "Are yah sure yah want ta do this?" she questioned, pulling her hair out from underneath the new shirt.

As an answer, Mystique's blue scales faded away into honey-toned skin, her eyes turning blue and her wavy red hair shifting to curly golden locks. "Do you want me to?"

Smiling her first true and earnest smile in the last few hours, she pulled the other woman into a tight hug, whispering a teary affirmation and thank you into her ear. Mystique simply smiled and ushered the now jean clad, leather coated girl out the door.

As much as Rogue wanted to take Logan's truck Mystique's car was quicker, so together they hit the road, rain pelting against the windshield, flashes of lighting illuminating the powerless and darkened streets.

To be continued…

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**Author's Notes: It's been awhile I know, my only excuse is lack of confidence. I lost my ability to believe in myself as a writer. The last chapter was a hard one for me for reasons unknown to me, then when my review count went down it shot my confidence down along with it. No matter how hard I tried I just could not write this chapter. I've cried over it, I've fretted over it and I've cursed at it. Add on to that the amount of sleep I've been getting lately (less then 20 hours on average in 5 days) and you have one very stressed out writer. It wasn't until two days ago that I found out there were some technical difficulties concerning the ability to review. Suffice it to say I felt like an idiot and got to work right away. So here it is, it's been a long time coming and I'm still not so sure about it so just let me know - even if its one word.**

**Gimpy**

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Roguechere: **Have I told you how much I love you? I love your reviews, they are always so involved and I like the insight. No Logan and Scott banter here but look out for the next chapter - If it goes according to my plan you are going to love it! Thank you for bringing up the necklace, it actually has altered my plot a little or should I say a lot which is a good thing cause this stories course was looking a little sad. Thank you so much. 

Aquarius Angel: Thank you, it took me awhile but I am healthier - as for unanswered questions… that may last a little longer but not by much.

Jupiterhime: Much love… one of my favorite saying, thank you for that. My plot is on the verge of some major overhauling and more twists are on its way - I just hope that you guys can hang in there even with the lack of answers.

AC: Aww thank you, I love Scott/Logan/Rogue triangles to though who I'm partial to I can't say. I love the idea of both couples though I started off a Logan/Rogue.

Thank you ladies for the reviews and just hang on a little while longer - I've got a few roller coasters coming your way.


	9. Lost & Found

Moving On - Chapter 9

By Gimpy

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The sun reflected off the tinted plastic shades protecting his eyes from its overbearing light. His cigar burned leisurely as it sat casually on his velvet lips. Every few moments his lips would tighten around the Cuban stogie as he drew another wave of smoke and let it swirl around his stoic face. Leaning against the glimmering black Mercedes, legs crossed, boots sparkling, muscular arms folded across his broad chest, his presence could not be ignored in the small suburban street. He stuck out amongst the quaint and ideal picture of upper middle class, his bored and angry scowl making it all the more evident.

Huffing out a large cloud of smoke, his covered gaze fell on the domestic and rather absurd restaurant. Scratching at his scruffy muttonchops, he mentally cursed Scott for leaving him stranded on the street, forced to wait for the more agreeable man to come back. After spending one of his most restless nights since the chaos had started stuck in the med lab, Logan's attitude had been less than pleasing. Every sound he made was grouchy and angered. He'd barked and cursed at every thing that had crossed his path from the small Asian spitfire whom he'd almost made cry, to the coffee that had gone cold in his forgotten mug. Scott had received the brunt of his anger and for the first time, Logan actually felt guilty.

This was hard for both of them, he knew that, but sometimes he forgot how much it affected the other man. Scott had already lost so much in his life, his family, his sight, and his first love. The man's life was riddled with loss and Logan supposed that made them kindred spirits. Aside from the last eighteen years, Logan didn't even have a life, at least not one he could remember, and the things he could he didn't want to. He was no stranger to loss, had spend the last eighteen years trying to regain a semblance of something stable. The failures were numerous but Logan had always believed that Rogue had been his one success. The young, vulnerable southern beauty meant something immeasurable to both of them. For Scott, it was renewal; Rogue had pulled him out of the dust of Jean's death and made him whole. For Logan, she was a ray of hope; a chance at being something greater than a bar hopping cage fighter.

Which brought him here—standing on the cleanest street he'd ever seen, waiting for Scott to come back. Most of the morning had been spent trailing the route the ominous box had taken. Phone calls had been made and in the end it had led them to this street and the small restaurant a block in front of him. Scott had gone in alone, refusing to allow Logan to follow, spouting something about his attitude being a little too abrupt. Honestly Logan knew he would have been less then amicable if not down right barbaric. Even so he wanted to be a part of this, wanted to be able to tell Rogue that he'd done everything he could to help her. The most helpful thing at this moment probably was to stay out of the way and let the calmer man deal with the people.

Resting heavily on the car behind him, he shifted his powerful legs, attempting to loosen the cramps that were forming.

"All right, thanks again." Scott's voice rolled out from the slightly vacant restaurant and Logan looked up. The pensive lines carved into the youthful man's face stood out to Logan and he wondered if he looked as weary and exhausted.

Extending a prominent hand, Scott grasped the other man's hand and sternly shook it. The taller man Logan assumed was the owner nodded his head then spoke, "No problem, come back whenever you want Officer, La Café Croix is always open for heroes such as yourself."

A burly brow lifted at the owner's words and Logan eyed Scott's back with mild amusement. The man's words didn't seem to faze Scott who simply waved a stiff goodbye and headed towards the sleek car. When he reached ear shot, Logan grumbled, "Officer?"

Scott's features remained blank, giving nothing away, but Logan knew him better. "What happened?"

"The package isn't theirs," Scott stated as if he were reading the Sunday special.

"What do you mean? This is the address, right?"

"Yeah," Scott droned then turned fully to Logan. "The box was sent from here but not from Rick, the owner, or one of his current employees. Apparently a man named Jerry uses this place as his permanent address for job applications and personal letters."

"So this is a dead end?" Logan spouted, the words rhetorical in every sense. "Great! That's just fucking great! Now what the hell do we do? Go back to the mansion and sit on our asses?"

"Logan," Scott drawled, a headache burrowing into his temples.

"What!" The word came out fiercer then he'd intended and once again Logan felt guilty. Dragging a heavy hand through his unkempt locks, he reiterated the word with a little less agitation. "What?"

"This guy, Jerry, is a regular here at the restaurant. He comes in once a week always on the same day and at the exact same time. He sits at the same table and orders the same thing. It's like clockwork or so the Rick says. Yesterday was his day but--"

Logan's patience had been worn through over the past few days and he couldn't help but interrupt the other man spewing, "How the hell does that help us? I am not going to wait a fuckin' week for this bastard to come back."

"Would you wait for me to finish!" Scott growled, shocking Logan into silence. "Thank you! … He missed yesterday, never came in, Rick told me that the last time it happened Jerry just switched the day, in other words he should be coming in today."

For the third time that day Logan felt guilt and he knew it was showing on his face. Bowing away he muttered, "How do we know it was him and that _Rick_ isn't lying?"

Logan felt Scott shift as he shrugged somberly. "Rick showed me the notice slip Jerry got in the mail. Lucky for us, Jerry has obsessive-compulsive disorder and always sticks to routine, never checks his mail until his day to come in."

"So we wait?"

"Until Rick gives us the heads up."

All Logan could manage in return was a curt jerk of the head. Like a wolf stalking his prey, he eyed the restaurant, dead set on catching this game and making the kill, so to speak. Picking up a whiff of something uncomfortable from the man beside him, he resigned himself to speak. "What do you think all of this is for?"

The question shocked Scott who had been expecting a long standing and dwarfing silence from the more introverted man. "Revenge is all I can think."

Nodding more smoothly this time, Logan added, "Considering how many articles there are, she definitely has some enemies."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, adjusting his arms to cross his own chest. "It's hard to imagine that all of that was her."

A contrite snort flowed from Logan. "I'll say… there are reasons for it, I know there are and we just have to find her so she can explain it to us."

Eyeing his ally in all of this, suspicious of the desperation lingering in his words, Scott quipped, "Who you trying to convince?"

An earnest look befell Logan, hiding halfway behind his gleaming sunglasses. It quickly passed and he opened his mouth to bite out some quick retort. He was cut off when a stout and portly man entered his side vision.

There was nothing spectacular about the man, he was round and beefy, something not uncommon. Old and ratty clothes hung from his form, telling a tale of depravity and hardship and the more Logan watched, the more odd the man became to him. There was a waddle to each of his steps as if his legs were struggling to keep him balanced when he placed his weight on them. What struck him the most was the way he purposely wobbled his way over the cracks in the concrete sidewalk. He seamed almost frightened by their existence like they would mortally wound him if he placed even an inch of his foot on one.

"If that's not obsessive-compulsive I don't know what is," Logan muttered, glad to completely bypass the previous conversation.

Scott spotted Rick lingering near one of the expansive windows and was greeted with a subtle nod in stumpy's direction. Giving the owner a gesture of thanks, Logan and Scott pushed off the car and easily followed the plump man into the diner. Hanging back, they watched as Jerry wobbled his way over to a table.

Out of tradition, a need for order, the man circled the table, going all the way around before finally taking his seat. Strategically he unwrapped the diner's utensils from the white napkin, placing them in their rightful positions, his stubby fingers nudging them until they were perfect. Taking the napkin, he folded it in half and then folded that in half, he continued to fold it in halves eight more times before he slipped it into his pocket. Next came his coffee mug, which he turned right side up. With an ease that spoke of practice, he whirled the mug around three times, the porcelain never tilting or threatening to fall.

It was an understatement to even attempt calling this man compulsive.

Sharing a quick glance, both men advanced on the short man. Logan went right, Scott veered left and together their broad hands landed on the man's shoulders. He jumped, his balding head snapping from side to side, his pale gray eyes questioning.

"I-I-Is there something you guys want?" he stuttered out, his voice higher in pitch then you would have thought when looking at the ragged stubble covering his rounded cheeks.

"Wow Jer, that's a pretty loaded question considering we barely know each other," Logan drawled, his own forceful hold tightening, causing the short man to tense.

"How did you--" Jerry started at the sound of his name falling from Logan's lips.

"Oh I don't know, I think it's a fair question," Scott quickly retorted, staunching the words attempting to flow from Jerry's thin lips. "I myself don't really want all that much," he started, easing himself into the chair next to Jerry. "A fulfilling career as a teacher, maybe retire early after making a few good choices on the stock market, find myself a nice shack sitting on a beach and, God willing, live out the rest of my days with a beautiful woman by my side. What about you?" Scott flippantly asked Logan, who's hold had tightened even more on Jerry's plush shoulder when he tried to stand.

Keeping an air of being nonchalant, Logan spoke as if all three of them were long time friends who had simply gone out for coffee and some good conversation. "I like your plan. Just cancel the teaching career and the beach."

"The beach? Come on, how can you not like the beach?" Scott feigned a look of shock.

"I'm not much for the heat or water in general. I tend to sink," Logan replied, eyeing his muscular form.

"That makes sense. What about you Jerry? What do you want?"

"Yeah Jer, what do you want?" Logan echoed, adding a tad more pressure, just enough to make the flesh on his shoulder ache but not bruise. The rounded man squirmed and attempted to stand again. Logan shoved him back down, all the while carrying his best warm and caring look. "Come one Jer, we just want to get to know you."

"Yeah Jerry, don't hold out on us," Scott quipped.

"I don't… I don't want anything," he stammered and Logan could feel his pulse picking up, the raunchy scent of Jerry's fear threatened to smother Logan's sense of smell.

"Jerry, Jerry, Jerry," Scott shook his head, chastising the man as if he were a child. "You really shouldn't lie like that, it's hurtful." A look of betrayal and hurt made its way onto Scott's features and he managed to prevent his façade from faltering.

Jerry didn't know what to do or how to react so he just continued to glance between both men, his fear piercing his pale cloudy eyes.

"Everyone wants something Jer, we just want to know what you want." Logan eased.

"The… the beach sounds nice," he muttered, his voice cracking.

"Yeah, ya like the beach, don'tcha Jer?" Logan asked, subtly humoring and mocking the poor disheveled man.

"S-s-sure, the beach is okay," he hesitated, cautious of himself. "What is it you guys want from me?"

Scott leaned in a little, his warm exterior shifting to something menacing almost instantaneously, a feat that surprised even Logan. "The other day you sent a young woman a package in the mail," Scott started.

Sure signs of his guilt manifested at the mention of Rogue, his breathing becoming labored and his pulse picking up, pounding against Logan's fingers still digging into the man's flesh.

"That young woman is a dear friend of ours and she's missing. _You_ are going to help us find her." Everything about Scott had changed, he wasn't mild mannered, he was barely even civil and Logan felt a pang of pride watching him.

"Look I don't, I don't know anything!" Jerry protested, keeping his voice low, not wanting to attract attention to himself. "It was left on my doorstep with instructions." Slowly easing himself down onto a vacant chair, Logan placed his weight heavily on the man's now tender shoulder. At the new wave of pain, Jerry piped up, "I swear!"

"You really shouldn't, Jerry. Swearing is a goddamn nasty habit," Scott retorted.

"And it's just fucking rude," Logan added, his words flowing almost in unison with his partner. "I don't like being lied to Jer, especially not when one of my closest friends is missing and might be in danger. I get mad when people lie to me." His grip tightened on the man, earning himself a sliver of a whimper. "You don't want me mad," he snarled, baring his teeth out of instinct more than anything.

"We're all friends here Jerry. Just tell us what really happened," Scott drawled, his gloved hand inching towards Jerry's perfectly placed utensils. "I might be able to keep him off of you." Another inch was swallowed whole and Jerry tensed. "Lie again and I can't be held responsible for what he might do." Within a centimeter from his metallic fork, Scott eyed the man. "To be honest I've never seen the guy lose a fight."

Logan snarled and Scott's hand jerked forward shattering the controlled world Jerry had created for himself. "Okay! Okay!" he cried, his vow of silence shattering. Desperately, he tried to rearrange his utensils while rambling off, "This guy, he cornered me one time when I was leaving the shelter over on 102nd. He shoved five hundred bucks in my face and all I had to do was send some chick a box. What was I supposed to do? Say no? I can barely make that in two weeks let alone one day."

Scott couldn't help but chuckle menacingly, "Only five hundred?" Flashing Logan a sneering grin, he quipped, "I think someone was played for a fool."

Shooting glances between Logan and Scoot, Jerry murmured, "You think I could have gotten more?"

"Oh yeah," Logan whispered sympathetically.

Jerry straightened, mulling everything over in his head. Taking a few moments, he turned to Scott. "Look I don't know much but I have this address the guy gave me. It's in Connecticut, I was supposed to give the girl a cell phone and then send it back to him. She broke the phone but you guys can have the address."

"See Jer," Logan spouted, letting go of the sore shoulder and slapping him hard on the chest. "What'd I tell yah, the truth just eases the conscience. Write it down," he ordered, grabbing a pen from his pocket and pulling a napkin from the metal holder. Jerry did as he asked, quickly jotting it down before relaxing.

"Thank you Jerry, you've been a great help." The sentiment was real this time and Scott patted the man on the back as he stood, his other hand grabbing the napkin.

"No problem," he smiled, happy that perhaps he'd just pulled one over on the man who'd robbed him of more money. Turning back to his fork, Jerry glared at it, then tentatively ushered it back into place.

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"So, we off to Connecticut?" Logan questioned once they got closer to the car. Normally he didn't turn to Scott as the official leader, but lately he found himself doing it more and more. Why, he didn't know, except that he didn't trust his judgment, not when Rogue's safety was potentially hanging in the balance. His way was the brash, take no prisoners, kind and keeping a level head was never really possible when it came to the small woman he called a friend.

Keys in hand, Scott paused, his hand before the lock and truly thought it over. He wanted to rush in, guns blazing just as much as Logan, but he knew better. "I don't want to go in there blind, not if it means putting Marie in danger, if she's even there."

"So we go back to the mansion, do a little intel first, make sure we know what were walking into."

"Works for me."

A somber note devoured the high that had come with the new address. They were one step closer to discovering who was pulling the strings and yet something held them back from feeling the relief that came with it. The reason for everything was missing and so many questions still riddled them. Was she safe, had she held her own and gotten away? Had they even attempted to take her or just killed her? Was she dead? Was she a kidnap victim sitting in some dingy cellar or worse? There were so many doubts, countless uncertainties, numerous amounts of obstacles and the only thing that was certain was that they had a lead and they were going to follow it. Wherever it led, that's where they'd go, no matter how long it took, they'd never stop because when it came down to it, nothing else outside of Rogue mattered.

To be continued…

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Author's Notes: This is me… this is me down on my knees thanking explicitly all who gave me reviews and all who still read but never give voice to their thoughts… can you tell the difference? My last year of High School just started so my writing is going to be taking a back burner for a while. Not to say I won't be writing, I will but only on weekends when I find the time. I love you all and I sincerely thank all who reviewed - you have no idea how much it means to a struggling writer such as myself.

-Gimpy-

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RogueChere: Much love to you and you're reviews - As if I could ever forget them and their words. I'm a head case for the most part - as much as I try not to be it does happen. Thank you though for the acclamation and the reassurance - it was much needed and appreciated. This chapter started off with more banter between Scott and Logan but in the end it didn't fit - there are still moments and there will be more just bare with me as I try to set something up. A few big twists are on their way and it's something I've never really done. I just hope I can do it well enough to keep you posting your amazing reviews. Once again Much Love.

Dissolved Starr: Thank you Starr, it means a lot to me that you appreciate my writing. For awhile there I thought I was writing for myself but it's nice to know I have readers such as yourself. Hopefully because of the new school year I won't be making you wait too long for the chapters.

The Me (twice over): _Chapter Seven - _They're mutants - getting the police involved or anyone else for that matter would probably only lead to more trouble then needed. Thank you for saying you couldn't bare not reading my story - I promise to at least try not to disappoint. _Chapter Eight - _I figured you'd love Mystique this way - she's not all good but she's not all bad - she had a balance I guess you could say. LOL you are too cute you know that? Read this and enjoy - oh and say hi to the baby fish for me!

Holbeth: Do you have any idea how wonderful reading this was? It just made me feel so… I don't know loved? Appreciated? Well whatever it was it was nice and I thank you for that. As for calling me an artist… wow thank you for that.


	10. Heavy Burdens

_Moving on - Chapter ten_

_by Gimpy_

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A gleam of light danced across the burning metallic hood, reflecting through the thin glass window and spraying across Rogue's angelic features. Squinting she reached out and unfolded the shade, blocking the offensive light. Curling further into herself, she watched the scenery flow by as the small car spurred down the highway. Small operatic notes trickled from the radio, none of them loud enough to distinguish but strong enough to ease her nerves. 

Shifting in the small and cramped seat, she glanced at Mystique. "How long?" she asked, glancing at the road ahead of them.

The soft words made the woman jump slightly and an embarrassed smile crossed her face as she answered, "Couple of hours at the most."

Nodding, Rogue leaned back, "Kay."

Mystique caught sight of the younger woman pulling her lip between her teeth and mumbled, "Hey, you okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, fine, why?" Rogue stuttered, straightening out her folded legs.

Glancing between the road and Rogue, Mystique explained, "You seem off balance, not that I'd blame you if you were."

Rogue digested the words, almost laughing at their absurdness. "Ah am off balance… actually its more like teeterin' on the edge o' a cliff that's loomin' over a bottomless pit an if yah were ta toss a torch over, yah'd loose sight o' it before it ever even came close ta touchin' ground." A jerky shake formed in her fingertips as she rambled.

Barely able to keep her eyes on the road, Mystique's worry rose, "You rambling is never a good sigh… Wanna talk?"

Rogue scoffed lightheartedly and slouched back into her seat. "Bout what?"

"I don't know… something, anything? You've never told me about your parents." The moment Mystique offered the subject she knew it was a mistake. Rogue flinched and stiffened, her entire posture turning away towards the window. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have…"

"No-" Rogue interrupted softly. "Yah're right, Ah haven't."

"And you don't have to," Mystique reassured.

"But yah wanna know don't yah?" Rogue argued.

"Well yeah… aside from the fact we're sort of heading that way, they raised you first, it makes me curious," Mystique admitted, a slight glimmer of what Rogue could only describe as desperation, vibrating through out her words. "But," she reaffirmed. "I don't want you doing something you don't-"

"Raven," Rogue scolded gently. "It's okay if yah wanna know. Ah would o' told yah everythin' but Ah never knew where ta start." Rogue explained, slipping further into her seat, her legs finding their rightful spot before her clenched chest. "However long it's been Ah still remember everythin' 'bout 'em, the wave in Mama's hair, the crease in Papa's brow, every single word they've ever said, every movement. Ah even remember what they took in their coffee." Rogue's light and airy voice seemed to distance, becoming wispy and almost ghost like as the memories that went with the words crashed upon her.

"You seriously remember all of that?" Disbelieve weaved heavily around Mystique's words.

"Ah know, it's sounds impossible right?" she mumbled, her fingers idly toying with the ends of her leather gloves.

"A little," Mystique confessed.

A timid smile graced the listless girl. "Well when yah take inta consideration all the other voices stuck in mah head, mah own memories tend ta stick around longer, they're clearer. Ah guess it keeps me from getting' lost in all the chaos," she explained, a gentle finger tapping against her temple.

The woman beside her fell silent again and Rogue cast a wayward glance her way. "Hey," Rogue cooed at the glimmer of guilt making itself known of Mystique's coy features.

"What?" Mystique queried, her head turning more towards the road to hide the expressions giving her emotions away.

"Don't, don't do that, okay?" Rogue persisted. "Ah told yah Ah don't blame yah for any o' the extra voices up here."

"I know."

The conviction Rogue had wanted to hear was lacking and she sighed, letting that never-ending subject drop. The guilt she felt deep within about all she'd done to get in this car, on this road kept her from trying to relieve Mystique's. It was too much like giving herself penance when it wasn't due.

"Tell me about your dad?" Mystique whispered, her eyes never faltering from the concrete path before her.

A knot formed in Rogue's stomach but she ignored it, resting her head on the back of the chair. "There's not much ta say honestly… he was your run o' the mill detached, emotionless bastard. Ta be truthful, Ah can't remember a single time he ever told me he loved me."

"I'm sorry."

Shrugging off the words, Rogue continued, "Don't be, Ah don't think Ah ever really loved him either. He was rarely around an' when he was Ah was either asleep or headin' that way. Ah know it's horrible ta say Ah don't love mah own father but he never felt like a father or a husband for that matter," she defended, her slender fingers still pulling at the leather confining her hands.

A pensive breath forced itself from her stunted lungs, the memories becoming more visible in her darkened mind. "He had this way o' lookin' at me, like Ah was a monster, a burden on his life that he resented. Ah guess Ah always figured Ah'd been unexpected an' had forced him ta settle down long before he wanted ta."

"Still, that didn't give him the right…" Mystique started but when a stern look was shot her way she stopped.

"That may be so," Rogue offered, her voice still detached. "But for all intents an' purposes he was the bread winner an' nothin' more. The looks an' the cold shoulder never really bothered much, Ah still had Mama…"

"You're more strong willed then I am," Mystique mused, her attempt to keep the air in the compressed vehicle light.

A whispery giggle flowed from the tensely wound girl but was quickly devoured by the next memory that surfaced. "Obviously not enough… Cause when mah mutation kicked in… Yah see Ah'd accidentally hurt a boy, mah best friend an' son ta mah father's boss… He went inta a coma and the way Papa looked at me after that… Not only like Ah wasn't there but also like Ah didn't deserve ta be there," she faltered, her eyes squeezing tight to the image of that face, the hate and disgust aimed at her by her own father.

"Ah guess in his mind Ah had always been the lowest form o' life an' my mutation just confirmed it for him." A shiver accented her words, physically rolling through her like a wave. "It was like he'd known all along, expected it…" A hollow sob choked her and she stilled for a moment. "But that didn't stop him, not even Mama could stop him an' damn if she didn't try."

A swell formed within Mystique as the telling progressed, a hand unconsciously and blindly reaching for her. "He hit you?"

A shift of the head was all Rogue could manage, the words to express what her father had done insufferable. A single tear streaked across her rosy cheek, going unnoticed as she switched the subject. "Mama… she was perfection, beautiful, strong, smart, elegant, everythin' Ah wasn't. She treated me like a princess, even after mah mutation she loved me, Ah don't think she was ever even afraid o' me or what Ah was."

"She sounds amazing," Mystique mused.

"She was," Rogue stalled, going blank for reason's Mystique couldn't digest. "She made me run, promised she'd follow, promised we'd be together forever. Crazy thing is Ah actually believed she was gonna come with me…"

"But she didn't," Mystique surmised, anger lingering in her words.

As the words formed a realization descended upon Rogue's already fluctuating sanity and resolve. Breaking out of her fabricated bubble she lurched forward. "Could ya stop the car," she begged softly.

Confused, it took Mystique a second to register what was said. "What? Why?"

Rogue's trembling hands curled into her frayed locks of hair as she repeated, "Stop the car… just stop the car, please!" Rogue whimpered, a hand already reaching for the door handle.

"Okay, okay," Mystique spouted back, swerving the car hard to the right. The wheels pulled on the dirt, shooting it up in waves that smothered the entire vehicle. The moment the wheels stopped Rogue jumped out of the confinement, her chest heaving as she started to pace.

Mystique flew out after her, mindlessly careening around the front of the car. She tried to wrap her mind around the sudden change in her daughter and the sight that greeted her sent a shiver down her spin. Rogue's feet carried her back and forth, her hands running deeper into her tangled locks.

"Ah can't… Ah can't do this!" Rogue cried, arms flailing frantically, eyes begging Mystique to stop something she had no control over.

"Do what? What's wrong," Mystique cried back.

"This!" Rogue screamed. "All o' this! Runnin' around hurtin' the people Ah love, goin' back ta a place Ah know Ah'm not welcomed! An' for what? Relief? Exoneration?" A bitter and sarcastic chuckle bubbled within the small girl as kicked viscously at the dirt. "What a joke right? Me getting let off the hook!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mystique demanded with a force in her voice that held more worry then strength.

"Don't yah get it?! Someone is punishin' me for what Ah am! All o' this has been a punishment an' yah know what? They ain't in the wrong. Ah deserve this, all o' this. Ah know Ah do," Rogue cried, her voice rising along with her own desperation and labored breaths. "Who am Ah ta say it's not fair? What _Ah_ did wasn't fair!"

"That's not true, you can't help who you are or what you are." Mystique argued back, taking a step towards the frantic woman.

"Yeah but Ah coulda controlled what Ah did. Ah had the power!" Rogue bellowed, pounding a fist hard against her chest. "It's only right that someone else gets a turn." The trembles in the lithe girl grew into convulsions as the emotions roared through her. Everything she'd ever done, the people she'd hurt and taken advantage off, it all added up and she honestly wondered who she thought she was to deserve normalcy. The life she'd attempted to build with the X-men, the friendships, and the promises of something more, it wasn't hers to have.

Mystique couldn't move, paralyzed by the vision of tears, the uncontrollable quivers rolling through her, the hateful words spewing from her velvet lips. All the older woman could manage was the question of, "Where is this coming from?"

Anger flared in the diminished beauty. "Where?" she shrieked, spiraling around to glare at the chameleon she's ignorantly called mother. "Ah'll tell yah where!" Marching up to the frozen woman she snapped, "Remember the fight we had? The one that made me run?"

The words shot out like daggers and Mystique felt each one take a piece of her. No matter how much they stung she didn't let it show as she responded coldly. "Of course I do."

"Course yah do," Rogue echoes venomously, back peddling and resuming her endless pacing. "Magneto wanted us ta do a job for him an' yah said yes. Yah knew how much Ah hated him! Always hittin' on me, tryin' ta win me over with that obnoxious arrogance o' his. Ah refused an' yah just couldn't understand. Yah never understood me!"

Mystique tried not to flinch as she remembered the words she's accosted Rogue with. "I remember, Marie," she strained out, wanting the reminiscence to stop above all else. Their past was riddled with darkness and most of it had been her fault, a fact she had only just come to realize and still hadn't accepted.

"Then do yah remember what yah said? Do yah!" Rogue cried, warm anger coloring her flush cheeks. When Mystique closed her eyes Rogue snapped, "Yah said Ah was weak!" Mystique flinched at the words, angering Rogue even more. "A child pretendin' ta be more then she was! Ah wasn't worthy of the work or the job…"

Rogue stilled, swiping angrily at the tears tainting her pained flesh. "Yah said Ah wasn't worthy of bein' your daughter… yah remember that?"

The constructed blue in Mystique's eyes darkened as salt swelled and threatened to fall. "I was angry, Marie, disappointed. You know I didn't mean that."

"Don't yah dare lie ta me," Rogue quipped back, pointing a menacing finger in the older woman's direction. "You an' Ah both know yah meant every single word… Ah wasn't good enough ta be your daughter an' all Ah've ever wanted was a mother."

"I know that," Mystique started but Rogue quickly cut her off.

"Oh yah sure as hell did, yah used that need ta lure me in! Promised yah'd me mah mother, someone ta take o' me!" Rogue accused, more hot tears gliding down her pale complextion.

"No! I didn't I swear!" As hard as Mystique tried all her words were for nothing, going right passed the enraged girl hell bent on venting.

"LIAR!" Rogue shrieked, the hazel tinted green in her eyes seemingly transforming to a deep and seedy black. "So yah know what Ah did? Ah went in search o' a real one, Ah went home, just ta see _her_, ta know that someone out there missed me, had loved me…"

"I love you Marie," Mystique defended, her words barely even registering with the irate girl.

"Yah wanna know what Ah saw?" Rogue countered, the tears and the anger knotting together within the tiny frame, threatening to burst. "Mah _precious mother_, the person who promised me the world, had moved on. New kid, new husband, new car, new life an' not a single speck o' mahself was left. It was like Ah'd never existed! What's worse is she was happier then she'd ever been with me. Ah didn't matter ta her, Ah was just a mistake ta be forgotten…"

"What did you expect her to do?" Mystique snarled, her own anger starting to take hold. "Spend the rest of her life wallowing over you?"

"Once again yah don't understand!" Rogue bit out. "It was like she was jumpin on mah grave, one that hadn't even been dug yet! Mama had promised! Promised me forever an' all Ah got was five lousy minutes in a condemned old house before she shoved me outta her life like Ah was nothin!" she sobbed, ringing her hands frantically. Her words froze and the anguished sound of her light sobs surrounded Mystique.

"You aren't nothing Marie," Mystique spoke sternly. "You aren't."

Glancing over at Mystique, eyes glazed in salty tears, hollowed out by the truths slowly washing over her, she murmured, "Ah was never enough for yah either…"

Saddened yellow flashed through Mystique's artificial features. "That's not true."

Swallowing hard Rogue continued uttering words she wasn't even sure she believed. "Yah couldn't even change for me, Raven. Yah loved me but that wasn't enough. Ah wasn't enough. Not for you, mah real mother, an' Ah'm definitely enough for…" She couldn't finish the statement though her gaze fluttered to the road behind them and what she'd left there.

Tilting her head back she muttered sourly, "Ah don't have the right ta a life. Ah'm really starting to get that, yah know? Nothin' ever works out an' Ah've done so many wrongs… hurt so many people… Ah deserve this, Ah do…" The black hole within her soul deepened and the strength to stand vanished. Her depleted form dragged itself over to the car and she leaned against it. The weight of the past few days pushed down on her and she slid off the gleaming blue metal coming to a disembodied rest in the gritty dirt.

Mystique grew speechless, unable to find the quick fix words to bandage the crumbling girl. Instead she lightly made her way over to Rogue's side, taking up the space beside her. Rogue fell against the woman whose arm instinctively wrapped around her shoulders.

"Oh baby," Mystique whispered into the young woman's hairline. "You're wrong, so incredibly wrong. My decision was never about my love for you. That was more then enough for me…"

"Then why?" Rogue whimpered.

Resting her chin atop Rogue's head, Mystique whispered, "I was afraid. We've both done things we're ashamed of but I've done too much to change. You haven't, god you have no idea how innocent you really are… You don't deserve this."

Rogue stilled, pulling back to safely tilt her head up to face Mystique. "How do yah know?" The word quivered off her tongue. "How…"

Smiling softly through her own tears, Mystique murmured, "I just do." The woman's pale blue eyes rimmed in yellow bared down into Rogue's soft green and watery pools. "You don't deserve any of this." When Rogue's gaze became shifty Mystique knew that her words had been in vain. The disappointment she felt showed on her face and Rogue pulled away from that, a tension forming and stifling both women.

The darkened green eyes faltered completely and Mystique sighed. Using the car as leverage Mystique stood then peered down at Rogue. Frowning, she reached out a helping hand, one Rogue took without reservation. No words were spoken and each action was carried out with the lingering tension. Mystique opened her door and Rogue eased herself into her seat. When the metal closed again Mystique paused, blinking back the tears she had no right to cry.

The sun glared off the tarmac and she followed the slick pavement all the way to the horizon. No cars, no life, just road and untamed land. No path to follow, no destination. She didn't know where to go or what to do, except that the girl curled in on herself needed refuge and she had to give it to her.

Running a hand through her hair, she climbed into the driver's seat and paused. With no real purpose she started the car and continued down the narrow road. Rogue didn't seem to notice or care, all she could do was stare at her trembling hands, memorizing each fresh tear that trickled off the black leather gloves.

* * *

"Come on."

A long silence had once against surrounded the women; time seeming to dwarf into never ending moments until those two words snapped Rogue out of the stupor she'd nestled into. When she raised her glassy eyes she realized Mystique was no longer in the drivers seat, nor was the car moving. Confusion swarmed her as a waft of cool breeze tickled the back of her neck. Turning her head she saw the passenger side door was wide open and a very worried Mystique was holding out her hand. Peering behind the towering woman she caught sight of a cheep and questionable motel. Connecting eyes with Mystique she questioned without words.

Mystique shrugged absently and muttered, "We had no where else to go, this was all I could think of. Is it okay?"

Digesting the dingy motel, Rogue sighed then took the offered hand. "It's fine."

"It's not much but it's better then sleeping in the car, plus we have our own beds," Mystique continued, taking hold of Rogue's elbow and pulling her from the car. Together they made their way to the already rented room.

Rogue blindly went with the motions, barely taking note of the dirt and grim that seemed to canvass the entire building. With a hand at the middle of Rogue's back, Mystique led her inside where she idly stood and stared, ignoring the tinted orange carpet and the yellow stained wallpaper. Not even the smell of previous tenants registered with her. She was too stressed, too depleted to even attempt emotion beyond the numbness within her.

Casting a wayward glance at what apparently warranted the title of bed, she scratched any idea she'd harbored of sleep, peaceful or not. She didn't even want to think about what might be hiding under the covers, what germs or bodily fluids could be lingering there. Taking a deep breath for strength she lowered herself gingerly onto the closest mattress, cringing at the creaking and groaning, each one a testament to the horrors performed against the aged springs.

Catching the disgust on her daughter's face Mystique frowned. "I'm sorry, I should have found something better."

Lifting her angelic face, Rogue forced a grin. "Yah know what, Ah don't honestly care."

"About the conditions of this room or life in general?" Mystique questioned, catching the heavier meaning in her words.

The fake grin faltered and Rogue bowed away, curling into her frame again. "Both, though mostly that last one."

Sighing, Mystique slipped out of her coat, her fabricated image going with it. Standing in the center of the room in all her blue tinted glory, she looked more alien and distanced then ever. It made Rogue want to cry, knowing the hateful things she'd said, knowing that the ever growing tension between them was her own fault.

"Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?" Mystique offered, taking at tempered seat at the tiny table beside the door.

"Can yah turn back time so Ah never get a chance ta hurt those people? Can yah take away mah mutation itself? Or maybe just go back an' make it so Ah was never born? Any o' those would make me feel great or non-existent, which is better Ah don't know," Rogue deadpanned, completely serious about each suggestion, which she made evidently clear by staring Mystique right in the eyes, daring her to scold her callused behavior.

Mystique just stared back, shocked and scared to the very core by her sarcastic words. It took her a moment to respond and when she did the scolding she'd prepared mentally, vanished. "Is a coke okay for now?" she joked, the dark humor not lost on either woman.

Rogue chuckled bitterly and muttered, "A coke would be great."

Reaching for the mini bar atop the table, Mystique tossed a can at the balled up woman who caught it effortlessly. Rogue muttered a soft thank you then retreated within her own mind. It worried Mystique how quiet she became, sitting on the corner of the bed taking gentle sips of her soft drink. She wanted to know what was filtering through her mind but couldn't see passed the blank and cold expression on her face. The idea that she couldn't help, that there were no words or actions to ease the torment was almost just as hard and knowing she had a part in her anguish.

The afternoon was almost gone, the sun's languished arch across the sky coming to an end. The silence persisted along with the unchanging lack of expression leaving Mystique to dwell on her own thoughts and idly go through cans of coke like candy. When all light finally vacated every crevasse of the tiny room Mystique was forced to move, flipping on the dim lights that gave barely any respite from the darkness. Rogue didn't seem to register the new light and once again she was forced to sit in silence.

Time passed with her perched in the semi darkness until the shadows started to meld together and she had to shake her head to force the haze away. Sleep was creeping up on her and she knew it. Glancing down at her watch her suspicions were confirmed.

Peering at the stone-faced girl she sighed. "It's getting late, maybe you should try and get some sleep?" she offered, uncertain if she'd get a response.

For the first time Rogue shifted, the empty can slipping from her fingers. When she spoke her voice cracked, coming out barely above a whisper. "Ah c-can't…"

"Marie," Mystique droned, dropping out of the chair and onto her knees. Sliding across the grimy carpet she let a slender hand grasp Rogue's shoe. "When's the last time you slept?"

Rogue paused, having to think of the answer. Letting her gaze drop to the woman before her, she frowned, her pale almost sickly eyes baring all emotion to the woman. "Ah don't know… What's today?"

"It's Saturday," Mystique answered, her hand warmly running over Rogue's jean covered calve.

"Wow," she muttered, the word rolling off her tongue slowly. "Four days…"

"Since you last slept?" Mystique spurted in shock.

"No, no," Rogue reassured, taking the hand on her calve in her own. "This all started four days ago… Ah hadn't thought it'd been that long," she muttered more to herself then anything else, her thoughts and posture wondering slightly.

"Marie?" Mystique whispered in concern. When Rogue's gaze came back to her own Mystique asked the question again. "How long?"

"Ah don't know… Thursday maybe, Ah can't remember." Each word was soft, dulled and almost disembodied.

"Sleep now? Even if it's just for a little while? Please," Mystique begged, believing above all else that a little sleep could restore her, even if it was only slightly.

"Ah don't know… it seems too superficial, too normal after everythin' that's happened." And to her it was, she didn't feel worthy of the bliss that tended to come with slumbering.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, Mystique sat back, her hand still clutching Rogue's. "You have to stop punishing yourself."

The saddened lines curling around Rogue's eyes deepened and she tried to hide that fact in her knees.

"Sweetie, how many times am I going to have to tell you that you can't-" Mystique stalled mid sentence, her posture stiffening and her senses going on alert.

"What-" Rogue started but was silenced by a stern look from the edgy woman. With uncertainty, Rogue watched Mystique pull back onto the balls of her feet. Her yellow eyes jerked towards the door as an unsettling sound reached her sensitive ears. In one fluidic motion she was on her feet, one brash hand coming to rest before Rogue's concerned form, demanding wordlessly she remain seated.

Titling her head, trying to gauge the sounds filtering through the crack under the door, Mystique jerked back. The events that happened next seemed to lag when in fact only seconds lapsed. The sound of braking glass pierced the stale silence of the room, a long metallic object shattering through the thickly compressed sand. Frozen, both women watched the long metallic cylinder roll along the ground, slowly edging towards the nightstand beside the table. With bated breath they waited until a small clink resonated as the metal collided with the wooden leg. Within a matter of seconds it split open, a smoldering cloud spewing forth from the crack. Almost immediately Rogue started to cough, the ability to breathe waning as the cloud expanded.

"Marie!" Mystique screamed, grabbing her arm and jerking her towards the door.

Rogue tumbled to the ground, hitting it hard. For a moment she stalled, them sprang up, diving for the door as an invisible force started to pull her down. She felt her limbs starting to succumb to the heavy poison now floating in the air. One foot in front of the other became difficult and the door seemed to get further away with each step.

The sound of wood splintering filtered into her ears before she saw the door shatter and slam into the wall. Hazy blurs of black infiltrated through the opened exit and she screamed again scampering backwards. Something connected with the back of her knees and she flailed back, hitting the object and rolling. Flat against the carpet she coughed and sputtered for breath. An eternity seemed to pass with the carpet staring up at her as she struggled to turn her head to see what she'd tripped over.

What she saw when she finally managed was the color of Mystique's skin dragging behind her as she spiked forward and connecting hard with one of the black hazes. All color seemed to fly apart and blackness peaked at the edges of her vision. The blue spun into the air, its color curving and separating into one long line that seemed to slice through a budding black haze. The haze fractured with the blow but was quickly replace with another.

The last thing Rogue remembered was the flowing blue colliding with the newly born and condemning black then being swallowed whole. After that all she knew was shadows of night as her consciousness bled away.

**

* * *

**

A light vibration filled the hollow room as the expensive printer slowly sputtered out sheets of paper. As the last one came gliding out a yellow gloved hand reached out and grabbed the small stack. Taping the sheets together Jubilee stood up and pulled them hard to her chest. Sighing she started out of the room in search of the two men who'd returned from their trek into New York a few hours ago. Pausing in the hall she heard two deep masculine voices heading her way.

Silently she waited for the men to come into view, an unsettling fear coursing through her. This morning their attitudes towards her had been brutal and she didn't think she was up for a second go. As their broad figures came into view the sound of metal separating at the other end of the hall echoed. The fears within her intensified as she glanced down the long and narrow hall. The Professor's chair wheeled almost sluggishly out of the room that held Cerebro but that wasn't what spurred on her fright. That was reserved for the look of near death swallowing his entire form whole.

"Professor?" she muttered, the sheets slipping from her slender arms, spinning and spiraling out of control on the metallic panels that made up the glistening floor. From behind her came a crude and biased comment from her tormentors about being clumsy but all she saw was the pain and the absolute fear that had shattered the man before her. Her feet moved without commandment, spurring her down the flowing corridor.

Everything outside of her mentor faded away as she raced to his side, tripping violently onto her knees before him. One desperate hand grasped at his as she stuttered, "Professor?"

In one deathly long move, his aged and wise eyes found hers but instead of the normal calm, collected and strong all she saw was sorrow and guilt. It was so intense, so overpowering that she truly felt all that he felt and when he finally spoke his voice was a whisper of what it once was.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he muttered, his despondent head shaking with such sadness Jubilee found tears in her eyes.

Xavier's chin came to a rest on his chest, his free hand reaching out to take hers in a forceful hold. She accepted the hold, her eyes shifting to the room behind the man and Cerebro's doors slowly closing, taking with it the revelations that had broken the man before her.

**to be continued...**

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well were just shy of a month, three days shy actually, which makes me feel really bad but you all can understand. Last year of high school, it being semestered so I'm coming home with homework every night. Its been hard and this chapter has had three different starts to it - one for each weekend until this one when I finally started and finished. Anyway much love to all reviewers - it was hard to get them knowing I had nothing to give back but at the same time made me smile.** **

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RogueChere: **Ah my loyal reviewer how much I love you. As for the Scott/Logan thing… no it will not go that way, though I am open minded to it - this fic is not so no worries. Thanks for the review and I apologize for the wait. Much love! 

**The Mishy: **I love your reviews, always so cute. Their may be physical pain as you can tell by the end of this chapter but I promise she will be healed, both mentally and physically though the process may take awhile.

**dissolved star: **Aww thank you for the reassurance it's been much needed, hopefully I still have readers left after all this time. School has become my life but I never forget about this and I never will.

**Tara: **I forgot about your poor heart! Forgive me? I promise things will get better - they have to right? Well maybe… I have no power on where this is heading. I'm glad you like Mystique in this, I do too. Thanks again for the review Tara, it means a lot after not writing for so long.

**jupiterhime: **My senior year is gonna be a bitch but I'm just as excited! Thanks for the review!

**Ebony Glare: **Do you have any idea how much this one review meant to me? Well obviously not but you should know that it meant a lot. I'm so glad you're enjoying it and that it's not confusing (one of my obvious fears). Thank you so much for the review and I hope that you continue to read and support - cause we both know I'm gonna need it if the next chapter takes just as long as this one, hehe.

**BrennaM: **You seriously stayed up until 3am just to read this? Now that's a compliment - unless you're a night owl but still thank you for that. I how this chapter isn't too long to keep you up late again. :smiles:

**AUD: **Aww, ya know what? I loved the good cop/bad cop thing too, which is why I had to write it in. Thanks for the review, cap locks and all.

**Tara: **Hmm… haven't I heard from you before? Not that I mind - this reassurance was… wow… lets just say I almost cried. It meant a lot to me to hear this from you. I do have fears about my writing - when I don't many reviews or when they aren't as ego boosting, I feel it hard only because I'm no stranger to writing chapter after chapter to no audience what so ever and it hurts. It really does. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for this heart felt review. I have tears in my eyes again just from rereading it.

**Nyruserra: **I'm glad to hear your caught up and trust me when I say I won't stop writing until it's finished. It may just take me awhile because of school work.

**P.s. Once again much love for everything and I will try my hardest to make the wait shorter.**


	11. Whirling Crimson

Moving On - Chapter 11

By Gimpy

* * *

White squares riddled the hall, gusts of air from the vents picking up the edges and blowing them a little further. Each one held bold statements in black ink, truths Jubilee had worked hard to uncover. Lowering onto her knees, she reached out her yellow-gloved hands and started to once again pile the sheets of paper together. Boxing them neatly, she rose from her knees with a grunt and glanced back at the three men whispering hotly.

In her eyes they were three of the most powerful men she'd ever encountered, the hero's of a desperate generation. Through all the trials and all the hardships, they had always managed to pull together and remain strong. She didn't have to know all the details of what was happening to understand the severity of it. That was written along every wrinkle and crease in their stoic features, had been since her dear friend ran away. The lines were deeper now and the strength they carried had been dwarfed. Words weren't needed for her to understand the situation had gotten worse. It tore at her but most of all it was tearing at them. They no longer held that string of unity, that brotherhood and trust that bonded them. They were united by a single common thread but had become three distinct points of a disentangled triangle, neither man standing together, each on opposite sides with differed views.

It frightened her that something could cause such a rift and the desire to understand forced her feet to take a step closer. Fragmented sentences barely reached her strained ears but there was a sentiment in the tone, one of resentment and anger.

Scott, the dormant leader perched solemnly against the wall, spoke with a despondence that visibly grieved the eldest of the three. As Jubilee drew nearer, she managed to catch the end of his callused words.

"You of all people should have known better." The bitterness that each of his words held frightened and confused her even further.

Baring every shred of his guilt to the younger man, the Professor tried to defend his actions but lacked the passion necessary to convince even himself. "I had no idea it would come to this, it was a simple request on her part, one I saw no danger in granting."

So gentle a man was the Professor that she couldn't understand the anger rolling off both Logan and Scott.

The barbarian scoffed at the Professors hollow words, spouting angrily, "No danger? These people used her past to lure her away from us so that we couldn't protect her and you saw no danger? Do you even know what common sense is?" There was no hesitation in berating the older man, scorning and demoralizing him as if he were a two-year-old child, not the respectable man he was.

"You have to understand my reasons," Charles persisted, his tender eyes begging for understanding.

"What possible reasons could there be that justifies you lying to us?" Logan retorted, tucking his clenched fists under his arms, still seething madly.

"If I had refused and then had you forcibly bring her home, she would have lost all trust in us and more than likely taken off again." Once again the fire and conviction was lacking in the Professor's voice, an echoing fact in the younger man standing still against the far wall.

Forcing his chin from the comfort of his chest, Scott finally showed more then the despondence devouring him, true fury glistening behind his ruby quartz-covered eyes. "A little lost trust is better then this, Charles! I can live with lost trust because that can be gained back. If anything happens to her, what's going to bring her back? Do you have a machine in this place to do that? Because that is the only way I'd ever be able to forgive you. Ever."

The distorted pieces to this puzzle started to gather for the tiny woman hanging back in the shadows and with each new piece, it took another inch off the pedestal she'd placed the Professor on. She'd never known the man to make mistakes, she knew he wasn't perfect, but mistakes like this weren't ones he made. A light smile graced the silent girl as a realization warmed her. The mistake had been unavoidable because when Rogue wanted something she almost always got it. Jubilee supposed that was why both Logan and Scott were mad, they knew that if they had been in the Professor's position they would have done the same thing. The anger they harbored wasn't for the man but the woman who'd forced his hand.

Softly, as if having come to the same conclusion, Logan questioned, "What exactly did you see in there?"

Grateful for the slender trails of warmth lingering around the Wolverine's words, the Professor closed his eyes and recalled the images he's been vicariously graced with. "It was hazy, colors were bleeding together. There were vibrations, almost like voices but without syllables. There was indescribable pain and fear but she was more worried than anything. I'm not certain what about, she lost consciousness before I could delve any further."

"Do you have any idea where she was? Did you see any sign or label that could possibly narrow it down just a little?" Scott asked, pleading for something more than what they had which was a resounding nothing.

"I'm sorry, there was too much fog clouding Marie's mind," Xavier murmured, wishing desperately to have had an answer to give the man.

The knit in Scott's brow furrowed even further, defeat slowly settling in the man's heart. "What do we do now?" he queried, unable to find the answer himself.

"I suggest that you both continue to track down the leads you have," the Professor offered, sadly adding, "I will try Cerebro again, though it will not work until she is conscious."

Both Logan and Scott shared a moment of understanding before Scott turned to the guilt-ridden man. "It's not your fault, as much as you should have said no, we know first hand that when it comes to Rogue it's a futile exercise."

A thin smile attempted to reach the older man's eyes but failed. "I wish that made me feel better but until I know the girl is safe I won't."

Nodding in complete understanding and empathy, Scott turned and started down the long and narrow hall, Logan falling into stride along side him. The silent eavesdropper let out a shallow gasp when both men spotted her.

The glare Logan sent her way didn't quite reach his eyes as he barked, "I thought I told you to get lost, kid?"

Jubilee fidgeted nervously under the boorish man's scrutiny. "Ya did, it's just… here," she spouted, shoving the neatly stacked papers into Scott's chest.

"What's this?" Scott asked, lightly thumbing through the pages.

Shrugging, Jubilee answered, "When ya guys radioed back what ya had found I was… well..."

"Eavesdropping like you just were?" Logan snapped.

Scoffing, she quipped, "So sue me, I listened in, jotted down the address you got and then did the thing?" Logan questioned, his infamous brow arching slightly.

Becoming even more sheepish by the second and slowly losing her nerve, Jubilee nodded, then fumbled out, "I looked into the warehouse, owners and previous ones, bills, documents…anything I could get my hands on, legally or not."

"Or not?" Scott started, his authoritative nature peaking.

"You think it's easy to find half that crap without hacking a little? It's got government notations on all of it, stamps of approval I suppose, then again considering its previous tenant…" Jubilee rambled off.

The implication of government involvement turned Logan white as a ghost, a revolted shutter rolling through him. "Government?" he stammered.

"Yeah, the big ol' US of A government is knee deep in that place. Property taxes, paid by The Man, bills, paid by The Man, funds and grants, donated by The Man, personnel and security, donated by The Man. There's nothing they don't have their thumbs in." The more she spoke the whiter Logan got until she swore he'd go transparent.

Letting it sink in for a moment, Scott surmised more to himself than anything, "This is bigger than just revenge."

"You have no clue Boss Man," Jubilee quipped lightly. Hesitating, she took a moment before she added the cherry to the disaster sundae. "The man who owned the warehouse before the government bought it out from underneath him a decade and a half ago… it was…" she stilled, her own perverse memories resurfacing. Tears swelled in her hazel eyes, her cheeks burning at the emotions sprawling across her face.

"It was the recently deceased William Stryker…"

* * *

A soft flickering light sparked, humming and sputtering as it struggled to get enough energy to sustain itself. The sound vibrated through the thick concrete walls, burrowing into the young woman sprawled along a cot in the corner of the room. Light flashed on and off her angelic face as the fog that had consumed her slowly started to give way. She groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the stiff pillow to hide from the infuriating light. There was still too much exhaustion in her limbs for her to want to wake up but as the sound continued to bombard her she knew it was useless. Cursing into the itchy woolen pillowcase, she used her growing strength and pushed herself into a wavering seated position.

The world around her titled and blurred, causing a flip and churn in her already sick stomach. The incessant blinking light aided the nausea taking hold and she slapped her hand over her lips. Through the swirling haze and the flickering moments of light, she managed to spot a half wall on the other side of the room. It spiraled in circles to her swerving vision, causing a lump to form in her coarse throat. Hand still clamped over her quivering and traitorous lips, she attempted to stand but the ground shifted and whirled beneath her naked feet. Stumbling to the ground, her bare hands barely able to keep her stable, she coughed, the contents of her stomach gracing the back of her throat.

The light flickered back on and she jerked, moving closer to what she assumed was a bathroom. Or so she hoped, its constant circling confusing and altering her sense of direction. The darkness blanketed the room again and she stilled, her entire form swaying. When the light came back, she made another jilted move, continuing to do so between shades of white and black until a trembling hand grasped the protruding wall. The bile rose again, making itself known and forcing her to swallow it back.

Relief washed over her at the beautiful sight of the porcelain bowl. Scrambling quickly to its side before she missed it all together, she let go. Both hands held on tightly to the bowl's rim for stability and her entire form shook with convulsive hacks. It took over her entire being, forcing the world around her to swirl faster and blur almost completely together until she couldn't even see the back of the porcelain god. All she knew was the burning hole forming in the pit of her stomach as every fiber she'd consumed in the last four days rose and expelled itself in a ritual cleansing of the drugs that had infiltrated her system.

She coughed and sputtered until even the energy to hold on was lost and she collapsed to the side. Her vision still swam and the colors still blended but slowly she was able to make out the creases in the ceiling above her enough to realize it wasn't polished mahogany or tainted stucco but drab concrete, imperfect and stained. Confusion enveloped her, forcing her to push through the haze.

Grunting, she managed to grab hold of the bowl and pull herself up. Through the blinking light she slowly took in her surroundings, digesting each wall of solid rock with trepidation. Finding her knees, she pushed her quivering form onto them then used the back of the toilet to hoist herself onto unstable legs. Swaying to the side, she managed to catch herself on the white porcelain sink, her hands slamming into the strong material and holding fast.

Taking two deep breaths to quell the raging storm in her upset stomach, she started to push off the sink to enter the room she'd come from but stopped. Swallowing another breath, she dragged her ragged vision up to the edge of the sink. A mirror barely clung to the wall behind it, cracks weaving their way through the glass surface, small shards missing from the whole. Raising her eyes, she caught sight of her face and gasped shallowly.

Leaning closer to her own reflection, she tried to distance herself mentally from the image as she scrutinized. Pale skin refracted back, a light and glossy sheen covering its entirety like a film. Her normally lush and plump lips were ashen and cracked with a slit in the side oozing fresh blood from her collision with the concrete floor next to the toilet. An enraged bruise had formed on her left cheek, its deep blues and purples like a raging storm thrashing along her jaw line. Unwilling to connect with her own eyes she found her curly locks, frayed and jagged, knots forming ratty bumps in the normally silk strands. The stark white streaks were grayed and darkened with dirt and grime, grease coating each strand of hair.

Grazing over her slender form, the frightening realization that she was no longer in her own clothes rendered her breathless. A trembling hand reached for the thin white shirt two sizes too big, her bare hands feeling the paper-like fabric. The matching pants hung heavily on her hips, the draw string barely enough to keep them on. The feeling of violation overwhelmed her, knowing someone had risked their life to remove her clothing.

A slight whimper flowed from her wounded lips without her meaning too, startling her eyes to lock with their twin globes. What she saw nearly brought her to tears. The glimmering pools of vibrant green were gone, dwarfed and sunken in, surrounded by deepened shadows giving her the look of death reincarnate. The green couldn't even be categorized as green anymore but a blackened gray with bare hints of forest. The longer she stared, the deeper the despair showed and then a merciful hand let the dying light flicker away. Her tortured and jagged sigh echoed in the hallowed room. She welcomed the dark, turning her back on the horrid mirror. Blindly she fumbled back into the other room, the persistent light dimly shining again.

Numbed, she let her exhausted form fall, knees hitting the concrete, her entire form slumping like a dying tree. Her fiery spirit withered away, her eyes filling with haunting tears. The end was near, she could feel it grasping at her every breath, making them shallow and weightless. The only thought she had the energy to muster was worry, for Mystique, wherever she may be, for Logan and Scott, the Professor, everyone but herself. There was no concern for her, there was simply fault and she was at fault. This was her shadows catching up with her, threatening to swallow her whole, and she found a sickening peace within that thought. She wanted to be swallowed, consumed by the lingering abyss of her past. It was her fate, and to fight it was like exempting her crimes and ignoring the monster she was.

A door she never bothered to take notice of slid open, frayed strings of light piercing the room. She didn't flinch from the pain it inflicted on her tired retinas, truthfully basked in it, wanting more. The mental frame swung open further, colliding soundly with the concrete wall and causing a waterfall of neon light to blind her even further. She welcomed it and nearly cursed when a shadow took its place, looming over her. The shadowed form took two steps towards her as she ignored the advance.

"Stand," a coarse voice barked, shattering the pristine silence.

Rogue's depleted form gave no sign that she'd heard the angered order, remaining fossilized and stoic. The shadow shifted closer, its massive boots with metal framing gliding into the woman's vision.

"Stand, now," he barked again, his volume rising along with his anger.

Shifting her bitter eyes to stare at the clouded man, Rogue retorted, "Bite me."

The darkness seethed and in a fluid but sharp movement his foot rammed into Rogue's side, shoving the remaining oxygen from her form as it crashed into the concrete. Fitful coughs overpowered the woman, her stomach churning over again as she tried to bring breath back to her starving lungs.

Sneering loathsomely, the shadow bit out again, "Stand up."

Cradling herself tenderly, she pushed back onto her knees and with all her strength, forced herself off the freezing concrete floor. She swayed heavily, a dizzy spell washing over her like coarse sand. A smug grin befell the hardened face of her shadowed warden.

"Turn around and place your hands on the back of your head," he commanded.

Glancing at her bare arms she snapped, "Like hell Ah will!" Just the thought of a single shred of this man in her head sickened her.

Grabbing her bare arm in his gloved hand, he snarled, "Don't piss me off princess, I will hurt you despite my orders."

Her fear unwillingly showed on her pale and shallow face. She did as asked, turning around and placing her trembling hands at the base of her neck. Leather clad fingers grasped at one, tearing it down to the middle of her back, wrenching her aching muscles. Doing the same to the other, he slid frozen metal along her wrists and snapped them into place. Grasping her shoulder, he spun her around viciously then shoved her out the opened door and into the hall.

She stumbled, her balance lost, and without hands to brace her, she fell into the wall, her bruised cheek grazing the rough surface. Tears swelled as pain shot through her. The man stepped out after her, laughter hanging on his breath. Another man, standing just outside the door, took hold of her and shoved her down the hall.

"Walk," he barked, his voice deeper and raspier then the first man.

Rogue slowly made her way down the narrow cavern-like hall, turning when it was demanded, uncaring of where it was they were taking her. Head bowed to the rough and rocky surface below her callused feat, she didn't even notice the double doors she nearly ran into. The first muscled man stepped forward, swiping a thin card through a keypad beside the massive doors. Rogue's dulled eyes watched as they spread apart giving way to a nightmare she knew all too well. A wintry blanket of white covered every object in the expansive room, counters, walls, floor and ceiling, reflecting off the steal tabletops and instruments.

The sight burned itself onto her eyes, Logan's memories resurfacing and wrecking havoc on her imagination. The sterile smell curdled her sensitive stomach and the threat of vomit returned with a vengeance. The second man grabbed her elbow and forced her deeper into the hellish laboratory, the doors gliding shut behind them.

Her survey of the room never stopped, frightened eyes scouring every crevasse with trepidation until she caught sight of a silhouetted man directly in her path. He was nowhere near as big as her sardonic escorts, yet still towered over her short and slender frame. Something about the curve in his hair registered with Rogue, a familiarity settling in the forefront of her mind. The man shifted as she grew nearer, his angular face coming into view as he turned.

An impassioned gasp fought its way passed her thinly drawn lips and she scorned, "Bastard."

A soft look of recognition formed on the man young features. "I suppose that was deserved," he mused sourly, his voice raking over Rogue ears. "It's nice, actually, to know that you haven't forgotten me even though our meeting was brief."

Dulled eyes snaked up to glare at him viscously. "For-forget yah?" she bit out, her voice cracked and raspy. "Yah did this, yah ruined everything, mah life is ruined because o' yah… Ah will never forget," she deadpanned, somehow managing to keep the tears slicking her widened eyes from falling.

The young man frowned smoothly at her sentiments. "I was simply following orders," he defended, taking an agile step towards her. Rogue tried to cower from his advances, the look of pity on his face making her sicker then the spots still swarming her vision. His frown deepened as he drew closer, an almost tender hand reaching soundlessly for her. The man's gloved fingers inched towards the large bruise spreading along her cheek and she tried to jerk away. Her escort's hand at the middle of her back prevented it.

The tip of the young man's middle finger grazed the tender flesh and a searing breath shot from her lungs. Wincing, he shook his head. "You were ordered not to hurt her," he snapped at the powerful man whose hold had never faltered.

Sneering maliciously, he retorted, "That one's not mine but the one on her side is, isn't it sweetheart?" At his words, he reached out a grubby hand and squeezed her hip viciously.

A tortured cry flew from the lithe woman, the tears finally spreading down her clammy cheeks. "Go ta hell," she growled, the words straining past her clenched teeth.

The young man swiftly snatched Rogue's cuffed arms and pulled her unsuspecting form behind him. Nearly stumbling to the ground, she managed to stabilize herself against the table he had been standing against before. Chest heaving with every breath, she tried to erect herself but failed, forced to lean on the cool steal and wait indignantly for help.

The young man behind her sneered at the malignant and sadistic mercenary as he snapped, "You are a poor excuse for a soldier and your insolence will be dealt with, I promise."

Taking a threatening step, the beastly man veered in on the younger man with a snide attitude that spoke of the resentment he harbored. "I am the only real soldier in this entire fucking compound, so I'll do what I want, when I want, to _whatever_ I want," he snarled back, sarcastically combing Rogue's trembling form with his dark blue eyes.

Catching the look, the shorter man shoved the palm of his hand into the soldier's chest, managing to force the overpowering man back a step.

Chuckling at the weak and inferior move, the soldier quipped, "And when you're done playing toy soldier I'll be more than willing to show you what it means to be a _real_ man."

Unnerved by the exchange, Rogue watched pensively as the towering men left, not a single breath gracing her lungs until the doors firmly closed behind them.

The young man visibly relaxed at the same time, an unsteady hand running through his brown and perfectly combed hair. Attempting once more to right herself, Rogue yelped when the man grasped her arms and did it for her.

"I'm sorry about him, I'm younger than him and higher in rank, for obvious reasons he dislikes me," the man reasoned, another soft smile etching his angular features.

Narrowing her gaze, Rogue quipped, "Ah don't know who yah are but your smile isn't gonna charm me, Ah'm Southern, we're the masters of charm. Now where the hell is mah mother?" Despite the darkening bruise, Rogue managed to look intimidating.

The smile slipped from his face and a pensive line took its place as he stared deep into Rogue's eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. Disappointed, he jerked his head, motioning behind her.

Swallowing deeply, Rogue slowly pivoted on her feet, ignoring the sterile lab and the horrors that came with it. A stark glimmer of blue amongst the white caught her attention and on impulse, Rogue charged towards it. The man let her go, watching silently as she stumbled to reach Mystique then stopped all together, stunned by the sight of shocking crimson.

"What happened ta her!" she cried, a foot from the table.

"From what I heard she put up quiet the fight. It took three men to take her down." The young man explained, keeping his distance from the enraged girl.

Pulling against the restricting bonds, she swallowed the last foot between her and the gurney, dropping to her knees beside it. Snapping her head back she glared at the man and snarled, "Why? Yah could have just let her go… It was me yah were after not her."

"I'm sorry, she was a liability."

Scoffing, Rogue turned back to Mystique's battered body, desperately wrenching her arms just so she could touch the wounded woman. Giving up, she let her head fall onto the cold metallic gurney and whimpered out, "Ah'm so sorry for gettin' yah inta this."

Squeezing back the tears, she titled her head to the side and glared at the man still standing in the middle of the room. "Ah have questions," she snapped and he bowed away. "But yah don't have answers for me…"

"No, that's not my job," he confirmed with another sad smile that made her stomach churn.

Turning back to Mystique, she took in the blood caked in her hair, smeared along her jaw, spotting the white sheet draped across her. Slowly bringing herself to an eerie stance, she curled to the side and eyed the young man with death in her eyes. "Yah had better hope Ah never get out o' here. Cause if Ah do," she seethed, taking a step towards the lackey. "Ah will destroy yah…" Her nose flared, her eyes conveying every last fiber of hatred she'd ever possessed. "Now get out," she snapped, turning and possessively leaning over the unconscious body.

Knowing he couldn't actually leave her alone, he took a generous step back, making sure to give her enough space, nearly slipping into the shadows as she attempted to coddle the wounded woman. Her bare and confined hands made it impossible and the young man's brow knitted. Agilely he pulled off his gloves and then coughed.

Rogue's head snapped his way, eyes blazing. Silently the man stepped towards her and cautiously unlocked the restraints, placing his gloves in her hands gingerly. Swiftly he strayed back, returning the space she'd asked for. Casting him an uncertain and mistrusting glance, she pulled the expensive black leather over her quivering fingers and grasped Mystique's hand, lightly caressing her face with the other.

"Ah'm so sorry," she uttered softly, gently thumbing the woman's hairline. "Yah were right, Ah am weak. Ah never should have come ta yah, Ah was just so scared an Ah needed yah. Ah put yah here… Ah'm so sorry."

The wistful voice, pleading and desperate, reached the young man and he turned away, feeling like a voyeur just being there. He cursed himself for being the instigator, knowing he too had been weak. Too weak to break away from the chains that held him, forced him to become the monster even he was afraid of. A hesitant hand found his chest and slipped up, cupping around his neck. Masculine fingers reached, brushing up against a button sized metallic circle deeply rooted into the flesh there, the ball to his chain.

Letting his hand slip away, he listened to Rogue whispering quietly to the unconscious form. Inhaling softly, he moved forward and grabbed one of the several chairs littering the small laboratory. Carefully wheeling it closer, he waited for her to take notice of him before offering it.

Listening to him advance, she glanced back, spotting the peace offering. Confusion reigned at the gesture itself coming from the same man who had tortured her with the necklace from her mother, the same man that had ruined her graduation, mangled her hand, and played with her emotions. Swallowing, she faced him, hands still clutching at Mystique's. Her sallow green eyes purged his, searching for answers to quell the confusion. Another light smile graced his chiseled and somewhat handsome features.

Unable to echo the gesture, she turned back around and eyed him over her shoulder. Taking the hint, he pushed the chair underneath her, which she took gratefully before completely turning from him and concentrating on her surrogate mother. Stepping back once more into the shadows, the young man simply stood and waited for his next set of orders from his superiors.

* * *

"I'm not quite sure I understand the implications of this," Hank admitted softly to the amassed group of comrades, Jubilee's information sitting on the same table that held the many flyers and newspaper clippings. At the confused looks he received, he restated his question, "What I mean to say is that this man is dead and the warehouse wasn't even under his name when he died. I'm not grasping at why his previous ownership means so much."

"He may no longer own the building but the fact that he did and was known for mutant experimentation means that the building is outfitted for it. Plus considering that he worked for the government and they now own it…" Logan trailed off, letting the man construct his own summary.

"So it's your belief that every event leading up to this moment was to bring Miss D'Ancanto in to be experimented on?" Hank questioned.

"That's what we're guessing," Logan answered.

"That seems quite excessive for just one girl," Hank reasoned. "I'm certain her powers are untapped, and would more than likely prove to be a useful tool, I'm simply unsure if the means would be outweighed by the ends. She's a strong young woman, breaking her may not be as easy as it seams."

"They got her out of here quick enough just by confronting her with who she is," Logan bitterly mused. "They know her weakness better then we do, which frankly scares and confuses the hell out of me. Complete strangers know her better then we do."

"Then… perhaps they aren't complete strangers…" Storm spoke, hesitating before every word, the implications behind what she was saying unnerving to even her.

Through the pensive and thoughtful silence an angered and resigned chuckle whispered from the corner. "You know what Storm? Considering how little we really know, I would seriously not be surprised if that were true," Scott muttered, uncrossing his arms and stalking the well lit table. "So many people, so many lives…who's to say she didn't do it in the name of the government? I can't argue either way…the thing is, it doesn't matter. We can analyze until we're blue in the face but there is only one person who can tell us the truth. Until she does, we get as much intel about the layout and security and when we're ready, we storm in there and we bring her back." An eerie commanding presence emanated from the newly empowered man. "When she's safe is when we find out exactly what the hell is going…by whatever means…"

to be continued…

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Author's Notes: Have I told you all how much I love you? Cause I do. You've all remained so loyal despite the long waits and that means so incredibly much to me. I don't think I can thank you enough except to keep writing and going as fast as I can. Much love to you all.

* * *

The Mishinator: I'm glad you think the wait was worth it - hopefully that will be the same for this chapter.

VinsDareDevillvr: Thank you daredevil!

BrennaM: Hopefully you won't have to stay up too late to read this one. It's nice that you appreciate how deeply I show Rogue's emotions, I don't think I'll ever be able to write a flat character as long as I live. Anyway enjoy and I'm sorry for the wait on this one - it would have been posted sooner but my computer was on strike.

Shelbecat: I'm sorry for not having sent the last one to you - I just wanted to post it so bad and I couldn't wait. I should have of course cause the mistakes in that one was horrendous. I appreciate the work you put into this one - couldn't do it without you or the kitten, HI KITTEN! I love you and thank you for the review.

ScottCyke: The best huh? Even better then the guy who wrote The Outsiders or the creator of Gravitation? I love you too.

Roguechere: I did it again… I can't help it my chapters almost always end in cliffhangers, this one isn't much of one so you should b okay just been a heart monitor on the side just incase you do try and die on me. I really love the relationship I've created between Rogue and Mystique too - its gives an element of reality to a plot line that's not so much realistic, in my opinion anyway. As for Logan and Scott - this doesn't have much of them either but hopefully its enough to keep you withdrawal symptoms at bay. Good luck with the university thing!


	12. Indulgence and Sacrifice

Moving On Chapter 12

* * *

This was a long time coming and it hasn't been beta'd. I hate that I left this for so long and didn't want to simply leave it unfinished. I never could figure out what to do with it and now that its been so long I suppose I have a fresh mind. Whether that mind comes up with good ideas is questionable considering its been so long since I've written fiction but I hope not to dissapoint and I also hope not to post and then leave it like this. Apologies to the readers and hopes that you'll still read this and enjoy it.

P.s. I have other stories in the works right now so keep a look out.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Logan snapped, swiftly matching speed and stride with the fuming man who'd just stormed out of the meeting.

A hardened laugh followed the almost absurd question. "That is what civilized people call a meeting where in people gather together to have a discussion," Scott retorted, his pace picking up. "You know what a discussion is right? Or do I have to explain that too!"

Unnerved by the man's bitter sarcasm, Logan reached out a domineering hand, grabbing the man's arm. Before he could spin Scott around he jerked, the sudden motion sending Logan back a step. Regaining his balance he sent a damning glare towards the slighter man. Unfazed by the pure fury on Logan's face Scott matched the man in stance and glare. His once primly groomed jaw was coated in a thick layer of stubble, pensive and weary lines curving at the edges of his thinly drawn lips.

"Don't touch me," he smoothly warned, his thin lips parting to bare his bright teeth.

Taken aback, Logan almost gawked at the ferocity of this man, a complete contrast to what he knew Scott to be. He wanted to respond in kind, bite back, snarl, bitch and vent every frustration bubbling within him but he couldn't find the strength. Dawning the face of a man defeated he muttered, "You know damn well that wasn't what I was talking about."

For the briefest of moments Scott softened at the despondence but quickly found his anger again. "No, I don't know, I don't know anything, Logan. I thought I did but… I obviously don't know Marie any more! I don't know what the hell it is I'm doing or feeling! I don't know where to go from here or even if I should…"

"Scott, we're all a little confused, no one exactly has the answers," Logan offered.

"You don't get it, I don't know how I feel about _her_," Scott muttered with the hint of a quiver in his voice. "I used to, it was so clear. I wanted her, wanted to love her, give her something she's never had. Hell, maybe spend the rest of my life with her. But now… How can you spend the rest of your life with someone you don't trust? How can you love someone you don't even know? Confused? Yeah I'm confused, I don't know what I feel, I don't know if I hate her or if I hate the lies and the deceit of all this. It's effecting my decisions and it shouldn't."

"It's effecting all of us, Scott," Logan reasoned, silently trying to ignore the admission of love from his long time rival. His words only seemed to infuriate the younger man even more.

"It's not supposed to Logan!" he cried, arms waving about with his words. "We're the heroes! We have to keep level heads so we can do our job! If the abduction of one girl can compromise my integrity… what does that say about the kind of leader I am?" The question fell from his lips in the form of a desperate plea.

Sighing softly and running a tempered hand through his unruly locks, Logan muttered, "I don't know the answer to that. I'm just as lost as you."

"And that's okay for _you_ but for me… I have responsibilities, I can't let it effect me like this but I can't stop it… I need to go, I need to get away," he muttered turning to do just that.

"That's just great Scooter, you preach about your responsibilities and then walk out on them. The Blackbird in being prepped for the recon mission, Charles is getting ready to use Cerebro, things have been set in motion and your just going to walk off like the pansy you really are."

Swallowing stiffly, Scott peered into Logan's face hoping for understanding as he returned, "I know, I just need to cool off."

"You don't have that luxury," Logan whispered, in the back of his mind wishing he had the freedom to disappear for awhile.

"Ten minutes," Scott begged, his depletion devouring his youthful form. "Just give me ten minutes."

Logan's chest heaved, broad breaths swelling from anger. Knowing that the jet took at least that long to be flight capable he sighed, "Fine."

Nodding his head in thanks, Scott swiftly walked away, disappearing around the corner and leaving a distraught man in his wake. A wave of resentment hit Logan and he had to clench his fists to keep from destroying the glistening metallic walls surrounding him. He wanted to be the one to walk off, to lick his wounds, to rebuild his strength. He wanted to be the one to confess his love for the untouchable. When was his turn to break down? When does he get to lie down, take a break?

"It's a sacrifice we make when we place others above ourselves." The words shocked the silent man, the distinct voice vibrating through him.

Closing his eyes to quell his emotions, he turned to the elderly man offering him a pensive grin. "Some of us obviously don't have to," he rebutted, his mind traveling back to Scott's impromptu exit.

"And you find that unfair?" The wise man questioned, wheeling closer to the foreboding man.

Letting out a scoffing breath, Logan stared directly into gentle eyes and retorted, "You're the mind reader, you tell me."

Pausing in deep thought the man responded, "His heart is breaking, much like yours is. He cares for her deeply, like you. It is an admirable trait to be able to keep yourself together under these circumstances."

"Admirable… right," he murmured, folding his arms along his chest. "You guys do this for a living, you deal with it all the time but this time it's different. There's more at steak here and if we fail…"

"The aftermath would be horrendous, I know, which is why we must allow Scott this time. If he's not fully with us than he's a danger to the mission. I'm sorry Logan but you'll simply have to let go of your jealousies," Charles softly murmured.

"I already have, there is only one thing that matters right now and it's not my ego," Logan responded before weaving his way around the wheel bound man and heading for the hanger deck to assist Storm and Kurt in the preflight analysis's.

* * *

A stale silence had befallen the only two conscious occupants of the brightly-lit room, accentuated by the electric crackles from the neon lights overhead. Smooth and agile fingers drew circles in oddly pale blue skin, smudging pools of crimson red, creating a violet hue on the woman's torn flesh. The woman hadn't stirred and Rogue started to suspect she wasn't going to for quite some time. The damage was extensive and Rogue cursed her mother's innate will to never give in. Her other hand had woven into the woman's tousled locks of red hair, stoking them softly, removing the knots and clumps of dried blood with each caress.

Slowly her fingers made their way through every strand of hair, reaching the base of her neck and brushing the encrusted blood away from the skin. Her pale green eyes widened when she felt a bulge with the tips of her gloved fingers. Stalling her breaths she tenderly grasped her mother's face and tilted her head to the side. Inch by inch the back of her neck was exposed to Rogue until the bare hint of something deathly black appeared before her. Inhaling sharply she titled Mystique face further away from her own. What she found caused sickly knots in her already queasy stomach.

A black plastic cap no wider then a penny and a centimeter in height lay glued to blue and scaly skin. A tiny red light flickered in the center indicating that it was doing its job, whatever that was. Reeling away from the protruding technology Rogue stood up, eyes wide and mouth gaping. The man behind her copied her, coming to an apprehensive stance. He'd been lost in thought and hadn't realized what it was Rogue had found.

"What's wrong?" he softly called out to her, weary of her fiery nature. The woman didn't answer as her hand slowly reached out and dipped in behind the unconscious woman's head. It dawned on him then and he stiffened. Cautiously he moved forward. "I was hoping you wouldn't find that."

Retracting her hand and pulling it against her chest she bit out, "What is it? What have yah done ta her?"

Swallowing the acidic lump forming in his throat, the man stopped a few feet behind the woman. "It's called an Inhibitor, it's attached to the brain stem of a mutant and when turned on it introduces a chemical into the brain that prevents the wearer from using their gifts."

"Like an off switch?" she snarled bitterly. "Yah treat us like objects, use us an' then discard us an' yah wonder why we hate yah an' fear yah…"

The man opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he stood there, silently watching the woman roll through her thoughts.

The aspect of an instrument that could literally turn off a mutant's powers nearly sent Rogue into shock. It was barbaric, it denied a mutant the ability to be in control of their own powers, their identity in a sense. Yet she couldn't help but be tempted by the idea. It had the word normalcy sprawled along it, her chance at being normal.

Turning to stare the man in the eye, she muttered, "Why don't Ah have one?"

Hesitating, the young man adverted his gaze and told her point blank why. "Because it's what you want and the people in charge don't want you to have that luxury. They know you won't use your powers, they know you hate them… I'm sorry."

Rogue huffed hotly her piercingly maniacal glare baring down on the mysterious man. "Sorry?" she spat, taking a menacing step towards him. "Yah're sorry?"

The man finally allowed his eyes to meet hers, the pools pleading for understanding.

All Rogue could manage was a devastating scoff at his obvious show of weakness. Despite his attempts to woe her, to convince her of his integrity all she saw was a little man without strength of conviction or identity. "Yah're a pawn, a mindless, soulless pawn. Yah don't get ta say yah're sorry. Ah mean, look at yah, what happened to tha bastard who began all o' this? He neva existed, he was just a creation, an allusion of the sadistic bastards who pull yah're strings. Ah feared yah once but not anymore… Ah pity yah, Ah really do."

The man's essence shifted at her words, his entirety becoming callous and indifferent. Swallowing the space between them in three broad and merciless steps, he peered down at her, seething hot and moist breath along her colorless cheeks. "We're not so different you and me, the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be. Until then I hope that you're stronger then you say you are because what's coming your way is a hell of a lot worse then what I've done."

"Oh give me a break, yah don't scare me," she sneered back.

Grabbing her arm forcibly and pulling her battered form closer he scorned, "You don't know what fear is little girl and you have no idea what real pain feels like. But don't you worry you'll soon find out." Shoving her back into the metal table he swiveled around and stormed back to his shadowed corner.

For the first time since she'd woken up she finally felt the pangs of fear and the reality of her situation. This prison was going to be her living hell as well as her passageway to the true biblical hell she deserved above everything else. Grazing her slowly fogging eyes over the white walls and the stainless steal instruments, she swallowed hard knowing that her fate was that of testing and experimentation. This was a world she'd only ever known through the memories of one man and even then they had scared her thoroughly. What frightened her the most was her willingness to accept that fate. This was her providence, her destiny and her punishment.

Finding the man again she wheeled her chair a little closer. Through the shadows his oddly bright eyes found her, shooting a questioning glare her way.

Lacking the anger from before Rogue simply held the gaze, a blank look on her face. "Who are yah?" she softly queried.

"I'm the brainless lackey," he chided.

Letting the biting comment drift away from her, Rogue pondering for a pensive moment before speaking again. "Tha night o' tha prom… There was somethin' 'bout yah… Ah know yah. Ah don't know how but Ah do… don't Ah?"

The glare faltered and the man wheeled closer, breaking passed his shadowy barrier. He didn't speak at first, casting his glance to the concrete floor. "When they told me that you didn't remember… I didn't believe them. I couldn't grasp that you could forget it all, not when you had a picture perfect memory.

"But when you looked at me on that dance floor," he trailed off, his head shaking softly.

Confusion riddled the woman's face, amplified by the man's obvious despair at her not having recognized him. "How do Ah… how do we-"

"I can't," he interrupted, finally finding her tainted eyes with his own glowing orbs. "I told you already, the answers you want aren't mine to give."

Rogue let out a frustrated groan, wincing when the movement caused the slit on her lip to part even further. Lightly dabbing at the freshly bleeding wound she eyed her companion. "Can Ah at least know yah're name?"

The man hesitated, glancing uncertainly at a hidden camera in the corner of the room that Rogue had yet to notice. Slowly coming to a stand, forcing the woman to do the same he approached her. Rogue fought the need to step away from his advance, her eyes never leaving his.

With a gentle grace about him that Rogue couldn't deny, he jutting out a confident hand, grasping her clothed elbow in a firm but surprisingly non-hostile hold.

"You tell me," he whispered, wary of the camera watching him. When Rogue moved to refute him the man quickly silenced her, repeating the sentiment. "You already know."

She peered deeply into eyes that she swore she had seen before, eyes that could bore a hole in her soul and expose her secrets. Her bruised and weakened arm moved without her consent, reaching out to conform to his handsomely chiseled cheek. The man leaned into the hold, his eyes softening and it was in that moment that she just knew. The letters appeared within her mind, swirling in a deeply clouded haze until she could see each and every syllable with absolute certainty.

A smile broke out onto her battered and shallow features and she leaned into the man. He echoed her grin, leaning even further into the gloved hand.

"Kale," she murmured, her warm breath mingling with his own. A nod followed her declaration and with it her features drastically changed as images flowed through her. Stumbling back Kale was forced to grab hold of the frail woman, pulling her close to him. She gripped at him as visions of the same brilliantly lit eyes flowed through her. They were younger, filled with immense joy then suddenly incredible sorrow.

"We grew up togetha," Rogue murmured into his chest, barely understanding what she was saying.

"Yes," Kale breathed, relief flowing through him, his hold tightening.

Rogue struggled to breathe, her chest weighing down with the information as it came. An image of a cylinder filled with some sort of liquid, a child dangling within the ooze, a man, balding and well dressed glaring down at her. She let out a muted cry and stumbled in Kale's arms.

Wide eyed, Kale started to panic, his gaze falling to the camera and back to the woman in his arms. Covering his hand in his sleeve he grabbed at Rogue's face and forced her fogging eyes to his. All that he feared was plastered there.

"You're remembering everything," he cursed, holding the quivering woman at arm length.

"Oh god," Rogue gritted out. "Mama… she's not mah Mama…"

Realizing what he'd done Kale quickly forced Rogue to look at him. "We don't have much time, they have to be already on their way."

Withering in his arms Rogue fought the images long enough to stare up at the now fully distraught man. "What are yah talkin' 'bout?" she crooned.

"Please, listen to me!" Kale spat through clenched teeth.

Rogue could barely function ignoring the panicking man and concentrating on the overflow of pictures and memories. This complex, she knew it, she didn't know how but she did. Her parents, they weren't real, they'd known all along the possibility of her mutation. "They were agents…"

"Yes, your parents, they were plants, your whole life before you ran was a plant," he tried to explain, frantically glancing to the double doors, knowing that his time was truly running short.

Shoving him away Rogue reeled, stumbling deeper into the room. "Oh gawd!" she whimpered grabbing at her head. "Ah'm not real… how can that be!" she shrieked, bumping viciously into an empty metal table. Turning to the frantic man she shouted, "Answer me!"

"Rogue," Kale started, trying to grab at the flailing woman.

"ANSWER ME!" Rogue's shrill cry filled the entire room, echoing off the white walls.

With both his palms held out to the disoriented woman Kale edged closer. "You weren't birthed Rogue, you were created, like me."

"No, no, Ah would know…" Rogue muttered, barely making sense even to herself.

"Please just listen, they're coming, I won't be able to protect you once they do," Kale pleaded.

"Who! Whose comin'?"

Bridging the gap Rogue had created Kale took hold and pulled her close to him. Hearing the doors swing open he did the only thing he could think off. Spinning Rogue around he hugged her back to his chest, adeptly pulling his gun from its holster.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her ear.

"Wha-" she started but froze when the cool steel touched against her temple. It was all happening so fast that Rogue could barely grasp at reality. "Kale what are yah doin'!"

"Don't come any closer or I will shot her!" Kale cried, ignoring Rogue's question and directing his attention to the group of military men who now had their semi-automatics pointed in their direction.

"Put the gun down and back away from the girl," the lead soldier commanded, not hesitating to inch closer.

"Another step and I swear!" To prove his point Kale shoved the gun into Rogue's bruised hip getting the appropriate cry of pain. The soldier swiftly moved back, a palm raising to signal the others to do the same.

"There's no way out Peters, no matter what you do from this point on, you die. If you play your cards right, the girl lives."

Kale didn't need to hear the words because he already knew, he had sealed his fate but for the first time it was on his terms. He wasn't the brainless lackey, not anymore.

Gripping the thick arm imprisoning her to Kale's chest, Rogue squeaked, "Kale?"

Realizing that the crazed man wasn't going to listen to him, the lead soldier softly radioed for back up.

Thinking quickly Kale turned Rogue back around, still pressing the gun violently into her abdomen. Gazing into her betrayed and frightened eyes nearly killed him but Kale ignored it. Bending down till his face was just above hers he whispered, "I'm sorry, you were right, I was just a pawn but not anymore."

Through her tears she sputtered, "An' yah think this is gonna prove that?"

"I never should have started this and I wish I could fix it." With his free hand Kale gently brushed at the shattered woman's clammy hair.

Staring into his eyes Rogue saw the truth, this was his way out, his defiance and his punishment. He wanted to die and he couldn't think of a better way to do it then by telling her everything.

"You and me, test tube babies," he joked, glancing over Rogue's head to see more black encased men entering the room, guns pointing directly at him.

Placing a gentle hand on his chest Rogue whispered, "How?"

Shaking his head he answered, "I don't know, I'm not a science geek. What I do know is that we aren't the only one's. You've heard of Weapon X?"

"Ah live with him," Rogue answered, completely oblivious to the amassing force behind her.

Kale knew that should have shocked him but he didn't have time. "After that failure the government branch in charge realized that kidnapping and using an independent mutant had been their down fall. They commissioned this facility from a man named William Striker and began creating subjects with mutant DNA. Having no discernable way of detecting the x gene until it pronounced itself they kept the children here until the age of five and then had them placed in mock families."

"Why are yah tellin' me all this?"

Smiling warmly, Kale blinked back a round of fearful tears. "I knew a girl once with the spirit of a wild animal and a fire in her eyes," he murmured his hand chastely catching Rogue's tear and brushing it aside. "She knew no fear and she protected me from the realities of this place as long as she could. She got away, escaped and I'm not about to let her spirit succumb like mine has."

"Let the girl go Peters!" the soldier ordered as his men slowly branched along the sides of the room.

Kale ignored them, leading Rogue even deeper into the fold of the laboratory. "When I heard that you'd gotten away… you have no idea how happy I was… You have to know that your mother, she planted a tracking device in the jade necklace she gave you but not because she wanted you found. She loved you Rogue and she let you go, only mentioning the necklace when she knew you'd sold it to save face for herself so that she could find you later."

"Yah're wrong, she neva wanted ta find me Kale, Ah know Ah saw her, she'd moved on."

"Not by choice," Kale argued, moving back until he was nearly pressed into a wall of concrete. "She couldn't just quit, she had a job to do and it wasn't safe. It never was," he deadpanned.

"What do yah mean?"

Kale's pale lips curved slowly into a sad and despondent frown. "She's here Rogue, they knew and they locked her away. I don't know where but she's here."

Rogue lucidly became shell-shocked, trying to digest everything Kale was telling her.

"The man who run's this place, Kemelman, don't let him break you, don't you ever let him take that fire from your eyes. Promise me you will fight until your last breath, promise me," he breathed, his free hand grasping at the back of Rogue's neck.

"Ah swear, no one owns me," she declared, her voice lacking true conviction, crumbled by the knowledge that this was not going to end without bloodshed.

Giving the trembling woman a watery, depraved smile, completely drenched by his impending doom, Kale licked his drying lips and pulled the beauty to him. "Survive," he ordered, his voice a mere hush that only she could hear.

Trembling uncontrollably, Rogue clung to Kale, her tears drenching her ashen and marred face. As he leaned in she sobbed a tormented, "Thank yah."

Unable to speak Kale simply pressed his lips to hers, their tears present and mingling on the soft velvet flesh. The pull happened almost immediately and Kale quickly pulled away. For a moment Rogue was too dazed to realize what she'd seen. At his inhale Rogue's eyes snapped open and her stomach curdled at the determination painted on the now surrealistically calm man.

"No!" she cried, the bellow accentuated by a forceful push on her bruised hip. The cry continued as she crashed violently into the cold hard ground. Frantic eyes raced to find Kale's form just as a hail of bullets thrashed the stale air. Kale let out a barbaric cry as he fired shot after shot at the foreboding men in black. Rogue attempted to cry out again but suddenly became transfixed by the true, valid and guttural life that was flowing through the once spark-less man. For once in his agonizing life he was complete, full of a spirit he had lost far too long ago.

As he advanced he slowly emptied his clip until only a click, click, click could be heard in the sterile room. A different sort of clicking sounded, the safeties being removed from the automatics.

"KALE!" Rogue screamed, trying fruitlessly to reach the condemned man. His brilliant eyes found hers once more, a silent eternity passing in a single second and then reality hit the skies opening and a barrage of thunder deafening Rogue's scream. Time stood still as she painfully curled into a ball and watched as solid metal fragments logged into Kale's boasting chest, deflating the proud man and igniting a fury of red blood that cascaded back. Rogue kept on screaming, crimson stains forming deformed stains on her paper-like clothes. Horror stricken she watched Kale's body jerk and convulse as wave after wave thrashed him until he finally fell to his knees and then back thudding so soundlessly next to her fetal frame.

"NOO!" she sobbed, her stomach churning violently as her entire form heaved along with her forceful tears. "No…" she squealed, repeating the word over and over as she clumsily but desperately squirmed her way over to Kale's bloody side. Grabbing at his swiftly drenched suit with both hands she shrieked, "KALE!"

The leading soldier held out a hand as a subordinate attempted to grab at the crazed woman. The airman backed off allowing his commander to edge towards the hysterical woman shaking the lifeless body pleading with him to wake up, to just open his eyes. Moving to the other side of Kale's corpse the leader ignored Rogue's feral snarl and nudged the body with his foot.

"Get away from him!" Rogue demanded, slapping at the man's mental tipped boot. "GET AWAY!"

Indifferent to Rogue's pathetic display the soldier reached behind his ear and droned, "Subject has been eliminated, give the all clear."

TBC


	13. Tangible Abyss

Moving On - Chapter 13

By Gimpy

* * *

On the outside there was barely even an expression on the now docile woman's features. On the outside she was a statue, frozen and numbed, strapped viciously to an ice-cold metal table staring at a dank and moldy concrete ceiling. On the outside she was drenched in Kale's blood and her own tears but on the inside she was screaming. On the inside she sobbed tormenting, thunderous tears and screamed shrill indiscernible words. On the inside she was destroyed, crazed, continuously replaying Kale's flesh tearing open, his life spilling freely into her hands.

She'd gone mad when they tried to tear his body from her arms, absorbing anyone stupid enough to draw close to her. She'd also paid the price receiving several blows before a tall and balding man had entered the room and ordered her sedated. It was the same man from the newly surfaced memories, Kemelman, the man she swore she would kill if it took all her strength simply to do it. She knew how to too, having siphoned the information from the unlucky few she'd imprinted. The route to the man's office was traced and retraced within her hazardous mind. No matter what she was going to get her revenge.

Gazing up at the molding concrete, only able to blink passed the drug-induced paralysis, a timid and desperate tear glided down the side of her blood stained cheek. She was a prisoner in her own body but she didn't give up, kept fighting the daze, fighting to move even a finger. Determination was her only lifeline and she clung to it, fueling it with every image and emotion she could muster, Kale's brilliant eyes staying near the forefront of her tormented mind.

A shadow suddenly loomed overhead, hindering her view of the aged rock and forcing her to stare straight into the eyes of her tormentor. Kemelman hovered there, eyeing her suspiciously with an undisguised look of disgust and hatred. His already receding hairline had almost completely vanished, leaving a barely visible ring of stubble around the back of his skull. The face she vaguely remember was young compared to what she now saw, new lines creasing along the old creating a vision of weathering years and a sour existence. He was paler then what she knew him to be now almost as ashen white as she was, his skin having thinned out, clinging to bone structure for dear life. His forehead slanted at an unearthly angle, stretching beyond what was normal giving him a long and drawn out look of someone starved and tormented. Simply staring at him gave Rogue's inert form reason enough to struggle even harder against the unnatural hold upon her. Suddenly his steely gaze averted to Rogue's side at an unknown occupant.

"She doesn't seem so dangerous," he commented, his voice a rasp of air with light tendrils of sound.

Rogue's fight increased, her want to show him just how dangerous she could be, spurring her on.

"Appearances tend to be deceiving," a man responded, his own voice fuller then Kemelman's but still as raspy.

The metallic eyes found her once more as if gauging through sight whether she was as much a threat as claimed. "Yes they do," he scornfully agreed, creeping away from Rogue's vision. Not having him in her sights unsettled the woman, her pulse quickening as sounds of footsteps and rustling cloth filtered along her twisted nerves. "She did take down two of my men with a single touch and managed to brainwash another into give his life for her," his tone bared something born of a sickly pride, like Kale's death had been her doing, her will. A solitary tear found refuge along her torn cheekbone, slicking through dried edges of a decrepit bloodstain, warming the docile liquid.

"Ah yes, such is the power of a woman," the doctor crooned, a bitter laugh echoing for a joke that had never been made.

A tense moment passed, silence clawing at Rogue's resolves her fear of the unknown scratching at her strength. She found herself praying for words, praying for a break in the unnerving nothingness, unable to take its isolation.

"Yes," Kemelman's throaty whisper assaulted the other man, an irritated annoyance swelling over every audible vowel. "How are the tests coming along?" he continued with a strict annoyance that demanded he be followed like the first lemming taking to the cliffs.

"I will not be able to tell you much until I am given the chance to witness her power first hand," the doctor admitted and Rogue's dwindling resolve diminished even further.

"I was expecting that," Kemelman responded, his spotted head and hollow eyes reappearing before Rogue's vision.

"You have a subject in mind?" the doctor questioned to which Kemelman grinned sadistically.

"I do."

There was something in the way that he said it, something in the look he gave that let Rogue know that whoever this 'subject' was it was going to kill her being forced to take their life. She only hoped that it wasn't Mystique, she couldn't bare the thought, another tear smearing the bloodstain on her cheekbone.

"This is good, I will have more for you after. Her secrets will reveal themselves to me."

Gazing back at the doctor Kemelman spitefully retorted, "I should hope so because I don't take kindly to failure."

"That is not a word in my vocabulary."

"Right," Kemelman quipped, simply humoring the inferior man. Gazing back down into Rogue's fiery eyes he leaned closer. "It's good to have you home," he leered.

Enraged by his callousness, Rogue found a renewed strength to fight the drug. The strain was evident on her pale and damaged face and Kemelman backed away. He followed Rogue's jerky gaze as she cast it down her frame. Peering down at her hand he stilled, watching with surprise and a sick sense of pride as her bloodied middle finger moved.

A light chuckle flowed from the demoralized man when he realized what his creation was attempting to say.

"What is it?" the doctor questioned at the gruff laugh.

Ignoring the man, Kemelman reconnected with Rogue's eyes, a light and scornful grin on his face, "Manners are most definitely not a mutant trait, are they?"

With a glint in her eyes Rogue defied the man, her lip quivering as she struggled to snarl at him. Kemelman merely chuckled again before standing back and turning to the doctor.

"Prep her," he ordered. "I'll have the subject delivered to you when you're ready. "

"Yes sir."

"Keep me informed," Kemelman commanded, finally vanishing from Rogue's line of sight.

"Yes sir," the doctor gleefully responded.

Rogue listened intently as Kemelman walked away. A fire slowly formed in her arm where the IV was carelessly ripped out. The burning sedative that had been scouring her tender veins stopped and another tear flowed freely, the image of Kemelman's smug face burning itself into her mind.

Her will to fight was starting to fade, the fire Kale had spoken of dimming, giving in to the need to simply let go. As many times as she had sworn to herself that she was deserving of this hell she couldn't stop the fear from surging. It wasn't so much for her but for those she would be inflicted upon. There were already so many voices inside her head, most dormant but collective in their discrimination of her. She didn't think she had the strength to take on anymore without loosing herself entirely.

The only comfort she found was the constant hum of pain that assaulted her. She wanted to give into it but she knew that she had to save Mystique and prevent herself from being used like a toy. Kale's soft eyes flashed before her and her heart tore just a little more. She would break free, challenge her enemies, and then slaughter them and she would do it all for him, for his sacrifice and his pain.

The doctor moved purposefully around her, gripped her arm in double-gloved hands and carelessly rammed another needle into her bruised flesh. If she could have screamed Rogue would have. The doctor's angular, stretched features bridged the corner of her eyes, a leer ever present on his sickly white features. The drug he'd introduced adeptly gripped her, dragging her under, forming swirls of haze where the doctors ugly face once stood. Her last thoughts weren't of herself but of the subject she was set to destroy.

* * *

The sudden rush of cold water caused the well-toned man to flinch, the freezing drops sticking to his chiseled face. Through ruby tinted glasses he gazed at his meager appearance, berating and scrutinizing the scruff along his jaw. Scott had never been one to simply let such things slide but at the moment he didn't have the energy to care. Blindly grabbing a towel he padded down his face and then loosely tossed the fabric behind him. His ten minutes were nearly up and he was no more level headed then when he had started, if anything he was riled, unnerved and downright restless. No matter what he seemed to do there was just no staunching the feeling that the road ahead was going to be the rockiest of all.

Heaving a tempered sigh he left the men's locker room and headed towards the hanger deck. When he arrived the jet was already humming softly, a familiar sound that Scott relished. Walking along the platform and swiftly taking the stairs down he advanced on the impressive machine, encased in steely black paint. Running a hand along its exterior he smiled and whispered, "Don't let me down."

"Talking to a machine, wow, you really did sort out your head," Logan quipped, as he passed the man.

Scott simply rolled his eyes and followed Logan to the ramp. The others were already dressed in their uniforms making Scott feel strangely out of place. From the cockpit Storm offered him a comforting grin before commanding the ramp up with the flick of a switch. Scott would have returned the gesture if it hadn't felt so wrong. Moving deeper into the cavernous jet Scott tapped a panel on the wall and a compartment slid out containing his uniform. Removing it from its hook he closed the compartment and started for the back to change.

It was then that he noticed whom was all sitting within the steel bird. Jubilee offered the leader a chaste grin and he stared at the bodysuit she now adorned. She was too young and he knew it, she shouldn't be here but from the looks of things the decision hadn't been his. She was dressed and ready as was the blonde haired boy sitting behind her carrying a look of absolute uncertainty.

"I know, I feel the same as you do but it was undeniable."

Following the voice Scott came face to face with the blue fury man. "What's that?"

Hank shrugged, his fur floating on air as he moved. "We need all the help we can get."

"Children, Hank?"

"X-men, Boss Man, and Rogue's friends," Jubilee indignantly answered before Hank could. "Sides its too late now, we're takin' off."

Scott narrowed his eyes feeling even more out of place.

"You trained us. We won't let you down and we most definitely won't let Rogue down," Bobby added, a confidence appearing on his face that was beyond his years.

"If things get harry," Scott warned.

"We high tail it," Jubilee answered gaining a nod of consent from the stoic man.

"Damn straight you do."

"Hey Scooter, little under prepared aren't you?" Logan jibed as he emerged from the back room completely encased in black leather.

Rolling his eyes again Scott passed the smug man and filled the room he'd just left. As Logan strolled passed the younger members he glared, hating the idea of children joining the mission but knowing Charles had a firm grasp on what he was doing. Taking a solemn seat across from Jubilee he couldn't help but notice her blatantly staring. Sighing hotly he turned his steely eyes on her.

"What," he barked.

For once the girl actually grimaced at the intense malice Logan harbored, to which Logan's guilt swarmed.

"Out with it kid," he said, this time in a softer tone.

Hesitating, Jubilee suckled at her bottom lip before cautiously speaking. "I just, I want ya to know that no matter what happens out there, none of this was your fault."

Logan faltered at her words, agitation and fury bubbling but quickly evaporating at the earnest look the young woman gave him. Breathing a soft chuckle he turned his attentions forwards but not before softly saying, "Thanks kid."

"Seatbelts ladies and gentlemen," Scott ordered as he quickly made his way to the cockpit with Storm.

"Yes mother," Logan quipped even as he did what Scott had instructed.

Casting a wayward glance at the man, Scott chose not to respond, instead taking control of the jet and finishing what Storm had started. Rising higher, he watched out the window as the basketball court slowly closed behind them.

"Try to land better this time, will ya?" Logan chided smirking at the inside joke as it resurfaced.

Biting his lip to keep from retorting, Scott thrust the throttled forward instantly setting the massive jet into motion, a large boom following in their wake.

From within the subbasement walls Xavier mentally watched the giant machine fly off, telepathically whispering, "_God speed._"

All occupants heard the voiceless words, each allowing a moments grace to wallow in the warmth that Xavier's presence endowed upon them.

"Thank you Professor," Scott whispered back before focusing entirely on the mission at hand.

* * *

A black abyss swarmed her, coating her in chilling uncertainty. Consciousness was fleeting, passing in waves of light, shadows, and indiscernible mutters. Each time she'd catch barely a glimmer of her surroundings before the frozen tendrils of the drug attacked, drawing her back into the nothingness of her own mind. Those moments she didn't remember, too dazed, too confused and time became groundless, seconds, minutes, hour's perhaps even days passing, which she couldn't tell. The commotion about her was haunting in its haziness. The brief moments only cemented the fear she'd refused to give into. Her fate, however many times she argued the opposite, was still up in arms. The callused moments of reality were revealing nothing. Desperation became her doctrine as she tried each time to gain the upper hand on the demobilizing drug. Her only comfort was the few extra moments she was awarded for her fight, a few extra moments for a thousand pounds of effort. Within she cried, screamed, called out not for escape or rescue but for understanding, control over her own abilities.

She feared what was happening to her outside the somber bubble she was forcibly shoved into. She prayed for solace, for reprieve from the torment, knowing full well it would lead to an even greater torment, that born of touch. Another moment came, the staunching haze lifting, light bleeding into her sight but the ominous sounds were gone, the rumbling echoes having ceased. She channeled her energy, utilized all that she could muster to force the dawning of consciousness to remain, to lift the unbearably cruel emptiness of her own mind. The brilliant white escalated, assaulting her weary, dry eyes, causing double-edged tears to form.

The brilliance roared, flaring beyond her capability to cope, darkness soon following. For a moment she fear the shadowed tendrils had found her once more but the buzzing sound of neon lights became her savior. Each dragging sound reminding her that the unsettling emptiness was gone replaced by incomprehensible everything and yet there was still that unending barrier between her and actuality. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't bridge the gap. Her irritated pupils stung, the acidic salt of tears trailing along her worn cheeks, agitating the tender flesh beyond all distinction.

"Yah alright?" A coarse but obviously female voice called through the fogged darkness.

Inwardly, Rogue gasped sharply, her drive to understand intensifying. Edging her glassy mind from the intolerable abyss she let out a strangled gasp, a deepened breath forging in her lax lungs. The grayed areas of her clouded vision separated, true shapes taking form before her. The light accentuated the dull ache within her thundering mind, its continuos humming pounding along her skull.

"Ah'll take that as a no," the coarse voice softly mocked, a hitch forming in the pitchy words.

The overwhelming hold of the drug's affects lingered making speech impossible, a fact with which the disembodied voice found humor in, letting out a jerky laugh.

The woman chuckled again, "Nuttin' left, gutted, all tha lil entrails _torn_, nuttin's left dearie, not for yah ta get yahr grubby lil hands on."

Confusion reigned, spurred by her inability to see the woman belonging to the crazed words. The darkness still loomed at the edges of her vision but she found strength to swallow the lump preventing speech. The words that finally cascaded from her torn, bloodied lips were raspy, hitching and catching upon labored breath. "Ah'm not here ta hurt yah," she croaked, catching each swell of breath in her wary chest.

Damning silence followed her words as they resounded in the concrete room. A sharp breath followed, seeping from the shadows where Rogue couldn't see. Another inhale came and then passed, Rogue's shattered pulse fixating on the haunting sound and quickening.

"That's not what they said," the woman finally crooned, the sound louder then before, surprisingly closer.

Calling to her languid limbs, Rogue furiously tried to move them, push passed the tingling that came with sleeping muscles. The pricks and tingles grew with fever, intensifying exponentially along with her desperation to make them move. Her chest hitched and heaved through the excursion, her head finally managing to tip to the side she thought her companion to be. Despite the over powering lights dangling above, all she saw was shadow, a thin silver lining of a silhouette taunting her from the blanketed darkness. Rogue tried to discern the outlining, tried to bring solidity to the blank slate of a woman. The lining stood still under her gaze, the bare hint of the woman's chest rising letting Rogue know this was not her imagination.

"Yah're mah horseman," the woman spoke suddenly, shocking the lucid woman. "Tha bringer o' mah death, mah salvation. They said yah'd end it, end tha nightmare. All Ah havta do is touch mah skin ta yahrs an' it'll all be ova. They promised."

"Ah won't, Ah can't," Rogue sharply protested, renewing her will to move her weighted body.

The lining stepped forward, entering the light but not enough for Rogue to see all of her. "Yah can't lie ta meh, yah neva could."

The true meaning of the woman's words didn't register with the preoccupied Rogue, her listless arms finally taking her weight. In jerky, uncertain movements Rogue managed to push up. The exertion became too much for her and with one last-ditch attempt she lurched forward, slumping like a dying tree during a dry summer. Her entire form rose and fell along with her chest, her lungs starving and demanding for the stale oxygen it direly needed.

The form itched to step forward, to reach out to the agonized woman. A sideways gaze from the arched woman ended the need, the disgusted, piercing gaze stemming all want to go to the shriveling woman. Rogue just stared at the lining, showering it with demoralizing questions.

"Why?" Rogue breathed, the word pitching through her clenched teeth. A sniffle and chaste breath slowly broke up her sentence but Rogue didn't take notice, caring only for the answer that would follow. "Why do yah breath want breath meh ta kill breath... y-"

"It's only fair," the shadow interrupted. "Ah deserve this."

There was so much conviction in the woman's words; so much underlining pain that each word she spewed seemed to plead with Rogue for salvation.

"Look, breath Ah'm sorry for yahr pain but breath Ah will not be tha one ta end it," Rogue proclaimed, firmly believing in her words.

"It's only fair!" the woman shrilly repeated.

Shaking her head sadly, Rogue returned, "Yah don't breath need meh ta kill yahself. Ah'm sure there's otha ways."

"Yah don't get it sugah. Ah've been waitin' for this, waitin for yah. If Ah just wanted ta die, Ah would," the shadow forcibly retorted, resentment lingering within her tone.

"Ah don't…"Rogue started but faltered, the words refusing to find cohesion on her swollen tongue as her stare upon the half shadowed woman intensified. The harder she stared the sicker she felt, her unending pain mingling with a disgust and torment of a different kind. The woman leered knowing the path Rogue's demented thoughts were traversing.

"It's ironic," the woman calmly spoke when Rogue continued to stare at her disguised form. "Ah gave up everythang, forfeited mah life just so that yah wouldn't end up in this place."

A completely different form of tears swelled in Rogue's haunted eyes, a dark realization fueling them.

"An' here yah are, right where Ah didn't want yah ta be 'bout ta take mah very last breath. In a twisted way it's fittin' seein' as yah took every otha one Ah've eva had. Yah did good Kemelman, yah have a great sense of dramatic irony!" the woman cried, gesturing wildly to thin air.

Rogue's lungs refused to fill, her vision refused to clear and her mind raced in one giant circle until all she was left with was one breathy word. "Mama?"

Jerking her hidden eyes back to Rogue's disheveled form, the woman stared long and hard. There was nothing but darkness but Rogue held the formidable gaze holding a desperate breath within her lungs as the woman took one agonizingly slow step from the shadows, following by another until the only darkness that remained was on her shallow and bowed face. The sound of Rogue's beating heart pounded in her ears as the woman angled her head into the light, inch by inch showing Rogue what she desperately didn't want to see. The naked truth glared at her, shelled out, sunken, filled with animosity and a deeply seeded nothingness.

TBC…


	14. Too Much, Too Soon

Moving On - Chapter 14

By Gimpy

* * *

Rogue's tears accelerated, the prolonged hold she had on her breath escaping her, forcing elongated hiccups to attack her quivering form. Too much, too fast, just too much too fast. The truths, the revelations, the reunion, the death and now the epitome of paradoxes, the one person in the entire world with the ability to make her do anything. This woman had been her savior then her damnation, her hope and then her shattered dreams and yet Rogue had always clung to the ideal of her, clung to the love she bared for her. She couldn't grasp it, couldn't fortify the idea that her mother was truly here, the woman who owned, at least in part, responsibility of every action Rogue had ever taken, every choice, every mistake, the memory of her had some space within the thinking process.

She looked nothing like what Rogue remembered, just a sliver of what she used to be, hollowed out. The woman's faded hazel eyes were dead, lifeless and dark, the warmth they once harbored strangled and slaughtered. There was a depression about her, a sorrow and pain that seeped from her like a tangible aura. It hit Rogue then, the dawning of another nightmare to top off the horrors. Her inner death, her carved out shell of a body… She'd said it was her fault, that Rogue had caused it. Rogue's gut twisted, horrified beyond all distinction that because of her this once flamboyant beauty was now skin, bone and nothing else. Worse still she wanted Rogue's ultimate shame, the defining and crumbling attribute that Rogue now understood she had been cultured for, like a culture, forged in a lab.

It was just too much, too fast to handle and when the woman edged a little closer Rogue panicked, rolling off the steal table and landing on unsteady legs.

"Don't," Rogue curdled, gripping the gurney for support against her non co-operative legs. The tears trickled soundlessly, going unnoticed by the dazed young woman.

Rogue felt sick, her stomach churning violently, the nightmare she found herself in was far worse then she could ever have imagined and she had several times over. Had pictured the demonic things that would be done to her, what crude and animalistic experiments and tortures they would create to drive her mad. Nothing from her twisted imagination had come close to this, not a single scenario could compare and because of this Rogue knew without a doubt that Kemelman, his people, his government, they owned her. After this there would be nothing left for Rogue to fight for and her plots for revenge dissipated into a surreal dream.

Despite what her mind was telling her, she had to ask, had to ear it aloud before she believed it fully. "It's really yah?"

The woman swallowed a small amount of space between them, remaining at a distance. A crude, unnatural smile formed on her deathly pale face. "Flesh an' blood, skin an' bones."

The admonition nearly killed the overwhelmed Rogue, a torrent of hitched breaths overrunning her. "What'd they do ta yah?" she whimpered, her voice teetering on hysterical.

A callused almost casual shrug followed the quaking question, as the woman murmured nonchalantly, "Ah betrayed them, they did what they had ta."

"Cause o' me," Rogue spewed, biting viscously on her bottom lip. "Ah may as well have… done it all ta yah."

The woman sighed, advancing another step. "Yahr only fault was that yah made meh love yah, Ah did what any motha would have."

Rogue didn't respond, too wrought with information to think properly.

"Ah have nuttin' left, Marie, not even self-respect," she choked, pausing between words with shattering gasps of breath.

"Ah won't do it!" Rogue cried, stepping away from the table, returning the gap between them to its rightful size.

The woman seemed unfazed, a secret lining her hollowed eyes. "Yah will."

Sticking out her neck, tilting her head and narrowing her jaw Rogue barked, "Ah won't."

"It's what Ah want, no matta what Ah do, what yah do, Ah will die, that is mah destiny, child. This place, these people, have already taken too much an' Ah refuse ta let them be tha ones ta take mah life as well," the woman argued. "Ah need yah now, Ah need yah ta do it."

The utter desperation in her eyes, the true and guttural need for her own death was condemning and Rogue found herself for a moment considering. Self-disgust assaulted her and she physically shook her head, shuttering violently at the thought. "Ah'm not - Ah'm - NO! Damn-it! No, okay? Just… No!"

Sickly disappointment flashed along the woman's ghostly appearances causing a deeply wound knot of fear to surge forward within the younger woman. "Ah had hoped," the woman started, jerkily stepping around the metallic table, Rogue countering each step. "Ah really had hoped."

"Take anotha step an' so help gawd, Ah'll," Rogue started, raising trembling hands before her frail form as she backed away.

"There are only three ways o' this endin' sugah, tha first yah've already refused so now there's only two. One is that Ah force yah," she threatened, slowly but surely backing the younger woman into a wall. "Ah don't want ta but tha second… tha second is that bastard Kemelman forces yah… Yah don't want that baby an' Ah still refuse for it ta be on his terms, in his way. Those are yah're choices, me or them."

"Yahr wrong, all we have ta do is wait, Ah have friends, they'll come for meh, we can get away, tagetha," Rogue sputtered, desperate for something other then the hole she was slowly being buried in.

The woman scoffed and chuckled, the act bringing on a bout of coughing that ravaged her. Through the raspy gurgles she mocked, "No one's comin' darlin', no one. Tha sooner yah realize that the longa yah'll get ta keep yahr sanity."

"They're comin', Ah know they are," Rogue meekly returned. A sharp gasp jolted through her body, a wall suddenly colliding with her bruised and battered back. Panic stripped her of her senses for the briefest of moments which was just long enough for the crazed woman who at one point had actually resembled a human being.

She was on Rogue before she had a chance to act, a dizzying sequence following, a struggle, a scream and then nothing.

* * *

Solar lights flickered as Charles's chair wheeled itself down the long and narrow path to his ultimate creation. Unfounded dread filled the wise man the nearer he came to Cerebro. Sliding into place before the console he closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath to quell the uncertainty but to no avail. He couldn't see the future but he could sense its destructive essence nipping at his heels. Closing his pale blues to the world he eased his mind, meditating for a moment before reaching out and grasping the helmet that would give him answers. Pulling the sleek metal onto his smooth head he concentrated on the demure and stunningly graceful young woman who had spiraled into his world, his home and made a place for herself in his vast heart.

For a moment there was nothing, no presence, no thought, just darkness and then without warning the old man cried out. Tearing the helmet away and tossing it onto the console as if it were diseased, he struggled to breathe passed the visions he's seen. In one fluid motion his chair did a one eighty and he sped as fast as he could from the sphere shaped room.

* * *

Four rows of television screens lined the wall of the small security office, curving from one side to the other, each row containing five of the screens. Portrayed upon them were darkened scenes of the complex, shifting from one to another every so often. Two soldiers sat within the confining room watching idly for commotion, their pinned eyes grazing for something to awaken the lull of boredom that had set in after the excitement of before. The younger of the two refused to avert his gaze, silently staring without pause. The eldest groaned at the blank, dormant halls before reaching for one and tinkering with it. The screen fizzed before shifting to a hall not yet viewed. Upon it a tall, lanky man in a long white lab coat was slowly pushing a thin metal gurney down the hall escorted by a single soldier. The eldest soldier honed in on the table, a barely visible black body bag jostled back and forth with every dip and crevasse in the morphed floors.

The youngest solder, piqued by his counterpart actions, dared to shift his own gaze to the man's screen. He sighed emphatically at what he saw shaking his head. "It's just a dead body, I don't see why you're so obsessed with it."

The older man shot his junior a pensive and coarse glare before shifting the camera again to catch the moving forms. "I'm obsessed? You're the one who had to replay it three times!" the man argued.

The younger soldier returned to watching the TVs, retorting, "Considering how 'exciting' and 'thrilling' our days are being locked in this 'spacious' room for ten hours a day watching the lights in the cell blocks die, that deserved a second look."

"The man's dead Cellar, show some respect," the old man griped, still searing the image of the body bag into his memory.

"This coming from the man whose drooling over his corpse," Cellar snapped back.

A hand was raised almost immediately, Cellar receiving a quick thud to the back of his skull. "I'm not drooling, I'm being cautious, he's a fucking mutant, he could be faking it and we wouldn't even know it."

"No one takes four magazines to the chest and walks away."

"Mutant, asswipe, they aren't just anyone, they're freaks, they can do shit."

Cellar's eyes rolled in exasperation as the old man slowly became enthusiastic. "Are you going to go into your 'Weapon X' spiel? Cause if you are I'm going to get coffee."

"Fine, I won't but don't you dare tell me the dead can't come to life, I saw it."

"You sure you weren't drunk that day?" Cellar barbed, sitting back and taking in all the screens one by one in a giant sweep.

Ignoring the chide comment, the old man went back to flipping the camera's as Kale Peters' undetermined form was wheeled through the corridors to the crematorium where all bodies went for disposal. "I don't trust it, the whole thing was fucked up. The guy had to have know he was done for and he didn't care, might as well have pulled the triggers himself."

"According to Rider in Intel, Peters and the bitch grew up together, had some kind of bond. Course Doers in Testing thinks the bitch messed with his head some how," Cellar explained.

"I don't give a rats ass, the guy got himself killed and for what? It's not like him dying saved the mutie. She's still going to go through hell except now she gets the guilt complex on top of that."

"What do you care?" Cellar snapped.

"I don't," the old man barked back, ramming his portly fingers into a few buttons, effectively returning the television back to its original screen. About to pull back and continue the gripping the old man stilled, the screen before him breaking up, the image forming white noise lines that slashed across the screen. "What the hell?"

"What?" Cellar questioned, his answer coming in the form of the other screens separating into fuzzy black and white dotted lines. "Damn-it!" he cursed, slamming a hand against the side of one screen. The picture jostled but didn't clear. Glancing at the old man Cellar quickly reached for his radio, contacting Technical with the flick of a switch. "Carrie, we're getting snow down here," he explained over the two-way radio system.

A fizzle followed and then a young woman's voice echoed from the small contraption. "Copy that, systems are faltering all over the place, according to top side an electrical storm just broke out of nowhere. It's affecting everything, give me ten to figure things out."

"Electrical storm?" Cellar mimicked, casting a shared uncertain look with his elder counterpart.

"Out of nowhere, its comi…" the woman's voice cut out, piercing static surging from the small rectangular box. Just as it happened the dimmed neon lights flickered, cutting on and off, causing from soldiers to jolt out of their comfortable positions. The screens before them became engulfed in snowy white noise, echoing its sharp and shrill sound in the box like office.

Sharing another uncertain look the old man stood up from his chair and started for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Stay here, get those screens back up, try to get Technical back on the horn if you can but fix it."

"Wait, where are you going?" Cellar called out to the portly man.

"That isn't just a freak electrical storm," was all he said before vanishing out the door and leaving the young Cellar alone to deal with the mess of televisions before him.

* * *

An unnatural hum filtrated through the entire complex, every last machine unwilling to do its bidding, the sound of people moving, working, and talking, seeping through walls and disconcerting all others. Electricity was in the air, the hairs of everyone's neck rising in acknowledgement of its power. The only light within the complexes dingy hall was the dull amber emergency lights that made seeing almost too difficult to master. The mood was tense, each person feeling the underlining threat of something more then just weather. Communication from wing to wing was cut off, separate stations knowing nothing of the others. Dead radios laid forgotten on table tops, messages instead passed through the grapevine, barring in mind its ability to change the meaning.

Shadows seemed to come to life, imaginations reverting to that of children, uncertain of what may lurk.

Within her temporary cell, blanketed in two separate tones of red Rogue shook violently, ashamed salt drenching her bloodstained, bruised cheeks. The lifeless body she'd refused to mentally gut rested not two feet from her trembling form, the woman's blank, soulless eyes staring off into oblivion, death's shrill cold hand having conquered the maddened woman.

Head titled against the cold concrete behind her, eyes staring to the invisible skies above, Rogue cried, every iota of herself put into the action. She'd refused, fought, rebelled and in the end her winning had meant death anyway. Her mother had clung so desperately to her, skin slicking over skin and then the true cruelty was bestowed, revealed to them both. There had been no pull, so demobilizing, excruciating, mind numbing pain, just skin upon skin. Fury replaced the insane woman's desperation and she grabbed and clawed at Rogue, feeling for the, then and now, present black circle at the base of Rogue's neck. The animals had essentially declawed her, taking away her loathing and her security. It had been sadistic, utterly masochistic and the crazed woman dipped even further into the furrowing tunnel of insanity. The attack to find the inhibitor became the attack to destroy what wouldn't destroy her.

Shock had reigned at first, Rogue unable to grasp that she could touch but then the need to defend herself arose, her mother, or at least what still remained of her, had kicked and screamed, slamming the smaller woman into the wall over and over again. Rogue's blood stained the concrete around her, a fresh patch forming beneath her inert form. In the end the upper hand had gone to the more fit, the one whose torture within the complexes walls hadn't lasted as long as the other. Rogue had done what her mother had wanted, not in the way she'd wanted but in the end it was her body, slowly losing heat, her blood stiffening within her form, her eyes listless and drying.

Rogue lurched, bile rising from her starving form, choking her before tainting the already grotesque cement floor. Wave after wave rolled through her until nothing was left and yet she kept on going, disgust and hatred for herself overpowering her immense need to stop the burning in her acid torn throat. A long and forlorn wheeze managed to mingle with the coarse hacks, peaking into a high pitched cry.

The anger, the resentment, the pure unadulterated hate surged, her hands pushing against the unmovable concrete. Raising them suddenly, she thrashed them back down letting out a feral cry as they connected. She did it again crying out even louder, her strength exceeding all that she had ever known. It was just too much for her tiny frame to contain, two deaths because of her in one day, the surge of new memories, the falsehood of her identity, the resurgence of her mother and then her destruction at her hands. Hunching forward, her now cracked and bleeding hands sprawling out along the cement ground, she touched her head to the floor, sobbing open mouthed into the dirt.

"Mama," she whimpered through her tempered sobs. In short painstaking movements she dragged her dead and quivering form towards the stiffened body. Covering her mouth to keep the grotesque bile from returning with a vengeance, her dulled eyes stared blankly at the lifeless hand next to her crimson covered one. Unable to truly gaze at the woman's corpse she sat there and gazed at the torn nails, bony fingers and dust covered bruises along her wrists from years of shackles dominating her. Moving her hand from her mouth she scratched at the medical sensors sprawled along her chest, taking her vitals down and sending them to the sadist who had mockingly forced her hand.

It had all been a ruse, a ploy but for what purpose Rogue didn't care. A crooked grin menacingly forged upon her lips. Forcing her shattered, bloodied and beaten form off the floor she grabbed a thin hospital sheet and draped it lovingly across her mother's prone form. Kneeling on the blood soaked ground, she reached a quivering hand out, lightly pulling at the woman's eyes, closing them gently. Through stunted tears she leaned down and kissed the woman's slick forehead, muttering incoherent words that needed no true voice. Standing once more she took in a deep breath and composed what was left of her charred nerves. A determination set itself along her marred face, a look of vengeance overthrowing the doe eyed girl from the past.

The Marie she once was and always tried to go back to had died along with Rogue's last link to that once innocent girl. A barrage of faces flashed before her, Scott's betrayal, Logan's anger, Mystique's pain, Kale's pride, her mother's insanity and her own strange and mangled one, cut and out of joint in that broken glass mirror. She had nothing left and because of that void she realized what it was her mother had truly wanted. She understood now her need…

Peace…

And

Revenge…

TBC

**Thank you for the reviews, Roguechere you are a trooper, hanging in there with me all the way 'smiles', thank you and I hope to finish this one so its no longer eating at me that I just left it. Again thank you for the reviews.**

**Gimpy**


	15. Crumbling Empire

Moving On - Chapter 15

By Gimpy

* * *

Chaos channeled every corridor of the expansive complex, every lab tech, scientist and soldier silently understanding both the loss of power and the ability to communicate were not coincidental. The once impenetrable facility had been breached, the culprits unknown but the consequences weighed heavily on every face that scrambled to bring life back to the dying facility. The fight was useless, they had been compromised. The work they'd all devoted decades to now completely shattered.

Reports slowly trickled in, a group of mutants, five in total, were taking the building section by section. Tensions rose, once loyal employees now desperate to defect, to abandon everything they'd accomplished so they could survive.

The dream Kemelman had built, the ideals he'd created were slipping away. He could feel it dwindling. Two decades had spanned never once baring any fruit for his efforts. Then the harlot had come along with a power so magnificent it had given purpose to every action he'd taken to create his vision of the perfect tool. That day when he'd learned the nature of her mutation he'd finally found what he'd been searching for. He'd gloated, boasting to all that had refused to believe in the benefits of his work. She was supposed to be his grand prolific instrument that would bring an end to the abominations, restore the natural order.

Her loss had nearly destroyed the precious empire he'd so diligently created. Investors backed out, unwilling to stand behind a man who couldn't even control a nine-year-old child. The dissidence had cost him dearly and the quest to recapture her swiftly became personal, a vendetta that he craved to settle. Kemelman had dreamt of the day when he would break her, force her to submit to him, cower before him.

Doing so had been too easy, in turn lacking a certain satisfaction. The woman's will had been crushed long before she'd graced the halls of his treasured complex, teetering on the edge for days. Taking her to the precipice and beyond had come down to one single moment. A moment he had been preparing for since the insolent child had escaped him. Over a decade spent tormenting, twisting, bending and mutilating the woman whom had become the mother, until she was but a vessel, completely gutted and then filled with gruesome intent perpetuated by Kemelman.

As the men and women raced around him, desperate to remedy the disorder unleashed by the intruders Kemelman leered venomously at a snowy computer screen. It had once displayed his sadistic plan as it had unfolded - the mother pleading to the daughter, the daughter refusing, the mother forcing the daughter's hand and then the glorious moment of realization. The end of torment denied…

The lecherous mutants had chosen that moment to disrupt the power and Kemelman never got to see if the murderous look on the mother's face had taken embodiment.

The hectic uncertainty surrounding him suddenly eased as dozens of eyes looked to him for answers - do they run or do they stand their ground against the impossible? Kemelman's castle was crumbling too fast to pick up the pieces and they all knew it, he could see it in their eyes, mocking him for having failed. Any and all control he had vanished as he spun around, seething at the scrupulous imbeciles.

"Why are you just standing there!" he cried, the angered words accentuated by a thunderous crash, Kemelman's wiry hands dislodging an uncooperative computer from its perch. The plastic casing shattered, glass cracking and sparks flying as the technology crumbled.

Chest heaving, eyes crazed and searing, he violently shouted, "Destroy it all! Nothing remains intact!" Turning his back to the frightened faces, he leered at the incessant amber emergency light as it flickered. "I'll be damned if they get the satisfaction of destroying me…"

The technicians scrambled, voraciously tearing the command center apart before they spread out along the winding corridors. Those left in the smoldering room stood in silence, soldiers still utterly loyal to the distraught man before them. Their captain eased towards Kemelman, coming to a pensive stand behind him. Calmly the malicious man waited for his orders.

Running a callused hand along his decrepit and worn features, Kemelman uttered, "You know what you're men have to do, don't you…"

Standing tall, arms folding behind his back, the captain answered, "Destroy the mutant experiments."

Kemelman nodded, leaning heavily against the counter before him. "You've had passed experience with the one called Rogue."

The man sneered at the comment, images of the subordinate woman returning to him. "I have."

Kemelman paused, his dour face twisting and contorting as thoughts came and went. Stiffening, he faced the soldier, vengeance and fury devouring his haggard features. "She was going to be my greatest achievement… Take care of her personally and I'll see to it that your next proficiency hearing goes _very, very_ well."

The soldier's thin lips curled maniacally, his beady eyes narrowing. "It'd be my pleasure."

"I'm sure," Kemelman patronizingly retorted, waving the vile man away.

* * *

Vibrant strands of light spiked and curled down the long narrow corridor, colors arching gloriously before descending with absolute cruelty. The intended victims could only gaze in fascination as the beautiful melody of color cascaded towards them. A trembling Jubilee viewed with horrific pride as the electrical streams sent the men spiraling to the ground. The ebbing relief she felt was suddenly dismembered when the piercing sound of gunfire deafened her. Erratic blazing roared from the desperate hand of a still crumbling soldier. For a terrifying moment the young woman froze, her hazel eyes watching the stream of unending bullets careen along the floor, digging and pummeling the hard concrete into a callused path.

As the deadly force edged rapidly towards her inert form a feral grunt echoed. Casting her attention sideways she caught a glimmer of glorious muscle flying at her. Before the ramifications of the image found time to register, she felt the hardened body collide with hers. Two burly arms grabbed and twisted her, creating a barrier for the oncoming pellets. Through instinct alone she clung to the man, her face contorting as she braced for gravity to compromise their flight. The man above her wheezed painfully, the hold tightening as a stray bullet lodged into his back, deflating his lung as it pierced the penetrable organ.

The harsh reality of solid rock stifled them both, the man's demobilizing weight crushing her petit torso, her chest tightening as precious oxygen was denied entry. The barrage from the fading soldier ended, Jubilee's ears continuing to ring violently long after. A second passed as her mind digested the event. Wide-eyed she stared at the mass of dark brown straggly hair resting on her collarbone.

"Oh god," she gasped through the immense weight, her weak arms trying relentlessly to move the broad and powerful man but to no avail. "Logan?" she muttered, her voice strained and quivering. When the man grunted but didn't budge, Jubilee persisted, gasping out, "Logan, please… I can't breath!"

The grunt turned into a long and drawn out groan as the lucid man rolled effortlessly onto his back. Twisting her neck, Jubilee peered at the man who'd saved her life, pensively grimacing at the jagged hitch that came with every rise and fall of his muscled chest.

"Are ya alright?" she timidly questioned, peeling her bruised back from the concrete and moving to his side. A hand found his chest, searching blindly for an exit wound and finding none.

The light running of the Asian's hand forced Logan to staunch a chuckle, his stomach clenching at the humorous tickle she caused. Smirking that cocky grin of his, he reached out and ruffled the girl's hair.

"I'm fine, kid," he bemused then cringed as his skin began the arduous process of reattached itself.

Despite the jumbled mess her nerves had become, Jubilee found his smile infectious, returning its sentiments. It swiftly fell and she suckled her bottom lip in agitation. Guilt and disappointment shadowed her, head listlessly falling onto her chest.

"I'm sorry about that…" she breathed, "I don't what came over me. I knew it coming but I couldn't move."

Logan shrugged off the explanation, coming to a half sit and gazing at her intently. "It's your first time in the field, mistakes are bound ta happen, kid."

"I don't think getting a teammate shot can be categorized as a mistake… a grievous error in judgment on the professor's part or a criminal offence, maybe. Cyclops was right, I shouldn't be here."

"Well, it's a little late to take ya back," Logan reasoned, becoming irritated with the huddled girl.

"Ya coulda been killed!" A furrowed brow arched at the comment and Jubilee quickly realized why. "Or not… but if you had been one of the others!"

"The important part of that sentence bein' 'if'," he patronized.

"Still-"

"Ah!" Logan belted, shooting the young woman a hardened glare. "Let it go or suck it up, don't much care which ya pick but pick one cause there are far more important things goin' on then your insecurities!"

Jubilee floundered at the harshness, suddenly realizing how completely selfish she was being.

Logan's attention diverted, his sensitive ears catching a soft hum as it echoed along the thick concrete. Recognizing the sound as the footfalls of Hank, Scott and Bobby, he swallowed his jumbled nerves and anger. Resting, he concentrated fully on pushing out the metallic fragment lodged between his spine and shoulder blade.

"You guys alright?" Scott's commanding voice questioned as he drew near.

Jubilee jolted nervously before quickly bowing away from her commanding officer, shadowing her guilt behind a wall of glimmering black hair. Unnerved by the shame littering Jubilee's youthful face, Scott turned to Logan hoping for some kind of explanation. None came, the pained look on Logan's features shifting to fear and apprehension. The metal laden man jolted, darting a narrowed glare towards the now fallen soldiers. His nostrils flared allowing stale air to penetrate the sensitive palette. Twisting his upper half he brought an ear to the cool concrete, a hand silencing Scott before his lips had fully parted. The leader tensed as he watched a darkness descend upon Logan.

Without warning the wolfish man swiveled and pounced on Jubilee, shoving her back into the ground. Draping his body across hers, he barked out, "Get down!"

Deadly thunder immediately followed the bellow, drowning out Jubilee's coarse, shrill scream. Hank, acting on pure instinct, grabbed the collar of Bobby and Scott's uniforms and jerked hard, the brute force of the tug sending both men careening back.

Utilizing the momentum he'd created, the large burly mutant pushed off the ground, tucking into a blue furry ball. When the merciless ground and his folded body met he rolled, making certain he'd made it around the corner before unleashing his legs, losing the controlled roll and tumbling onto his back viciously.

Plastered heavily against the wall, Scott waited for the shock of pain to wear off. His reddened vision fluctuated, accented by the undulating amber that heaved on and off from the small boxes that littered the halls. When his head refused to clear he made the mistake of attempting to move. Muffling a tightlipped cry behind clenched teeth, his leather clad hand reached for his shoulder. The pain intensified as he grasped the pulsing limb. Feeling a slick liquid against the cow skin of his glove he pulled it back. Whether it was blood his vision couldn't decipher but the fire racing down his arm was evidence enough for the logical leader.

"I'm hit," he garbled out, the sound overwhelmed by the continuing stream of metallic hail.

Through his dazed, unclear vision, Scott watch as Bobby overcame the dumbfounded stupor that had claimed him. The boy took stock of his surroundings, bypassing the wounded man, his heart and stomach decidedly switching places at the sight of the Asian beauty under fire. A child like uncertainty engulfed the boy, his fear trampling what little training he'd received.

Craning his neck, Scott stiffly attempted to assess the situation himself. His mind refused to work, glazing over, all thought lost to the deafening discomfort.

Seconds seemed to drag as Bobby watched stray bullets narrowly miss the pair cowered in the middle of the upheaval. Looking to Scott for answers he soon realized the infamous leader would not be able to help. Chancing one last glance at the pair as they lingered on the precipice of death, the boy darted across the narrow hall. Scott watched uncertainly as Bobby plastered himself to the cement and gingerly crept to the corner's edge.

Steadying his rampaging heart, the boy slid his hand along the ruff surface pausing where the wall ended. He gave himself half a second to brace for the immense energy he was about to exert then his hand rounded the corner, his fingers spreading apart. Pressing forcibly and closing his eyes he concentrated on the lingering humidity in the air, forcing it to solidify and mound together. The strain streaked along his boyish face as a thin layer of ice flowed from white tinted fingertips.

The frozen line brazenly scurried from the draining boy. Every iota of strength he harbored was channeled into the act, the solidifying humidity slowly becoming a thick wall of ice. The miniscule bullets tore at the edges forcing the boy to counteract, accelerating the rate of the formation. The constant flow started to take its toll, a sharpened ache burrowing into Bobby's forehead and neck. The power he contained was starting to ebb and he became frantic, his determination pushing him beyond his limits.

The moment the wall closed the boy collapsed, his quaking knees giving out under his weight. The thunder didn't cease but its sound became muffled mingling with the distinct echo of breaking ice.

"That's not going to hold!" Bobby forced out between labored breaths, hoping someone was lucid enough to have heard him.

"It'll do," Scott croaked from his side. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing stiffly, he managed a clumsy nod. Leaning heavily on the concrete he managed to take in his commanding officer through the corner of his eye. All he could make out in the dimly lit hall was a furrowed pain etching along Scott's brow and jaw along with a faint glimmer of ooze painted to the man's shoulder.

"Dr. McCoy!" the boy cried out, his languished body protesting as he reached to add pressure to the gaping hole. Scott squirmed, moaning coarsely when Bobby's touch grazed the tender flesh. Gritting passed the utter need to run from the gruesome sight, Bobby intensified his hold.

The doctor shifted quickly from his awkward position on the floor. When he saw the panic ridden boy hovering over a withering Scott, he scrambled to his feet and was by the boy's side instantly. A tense curse spouted through his clenched fangs at what he found. Herding the boy aside, Hank gingerly clasped the zipper of Scott's uniform between his large fingers. The thin metal threatened to slip his grasp, forcing Hank to move quickly, cursing the lack of agility that came with oversized paws. As he pulled back the thick material it resisted, Scott instantly surging from the wall, crying out as skin attempted to follow the uniform.

"Whoa," Hank hissed, pushing him back.

"Sorry," he wheezed painfully, collecting his resolve.

Bracing Scott's good arm against his shoulder and adjusting his hold on the thick leather, Hank questioned, "You ready?"

Filling his lungs with one final breath, Scott nodded, gritting his teeth. No warning came before Hank tugged on the fabric, tearing it away as fast as he could. The breath rushed from Scott's lungs, swirling around a gritty, prolonged whimper. Catching the man as he toppled forward, Hank's broad palm replaced the uniform, stemming the increased flow of crimson.

"That wasn't so bad," Scott strained, his face flushed and contorted.

"You've definitely had worse, o' fearless one," Hank returned, smiling softly while motioning Bobby over. The boy hesitated, unnerved by the flippant nature of the two men. Tentatively, Hank beckoned him again. "I need your undershirt."

"Uh, sure…" Bobby quickly busied himself with removing the garment, handing it over to the doctor.

"Thank you," Hank murmured, taking the cotton shirt and tearing it into long narrow strips. Ridding Scott's arm of the uniform all together, Hank began wrapping the shoulder with the makeshift tourniquets, tightly binding each one, apologizing when the man moaned softly. Once satisfied that he'd completely quelled the bleeding, Hank used the remainder of the cloth to sling the arm.

"This can't be permanent," he explained, knotting the cloth at the apex of the man's tensed neck. "There's no exit wound, meaning the bullets still in there and if left could cause led poisoning."

"I don't think we'll be here long enough for that," Scott reasoned, testing the limits of his mobility, wincing when he surpassed it.

"I suppose not."

"He-help… help!" Jubilee's frantic voice sounded. The petit girl was pinned once again beneath the behemoth sized man but she didn't bother trying to move his massive form, too engrossed in the sickening image of slick blood rapidly starting to pool around her.

Hank became torn between the man before him and the girl pinned beneath metal.

"Go," Scott ordered, tenderly bringing his arm to his chest, cradling the appendage. "I'll be fine."

Hank didn't need a second invitation, moving to the girl's side and relieving the mass of weight atop her. Hurriedly, he examined the damage. Dozens of holes littered Logan's back, rivers of blood tainting the cool cement beneath him. To his utter relief the man's pulse was chaotic but present and the wounds were already healing. Arching back on his heals he heaved a sigh, glancing at the shaken girl.

"Come here, lets have a look," Hank calmly ordered.

Jubilee drew near, visibly disjointed but ultimately unharmed, the blood coating her black uniform all Logan's.

Bobby relaxed considerably when Hank announced that she was fine. Turning to the man slouched at his side, he offered a sturdy hand. Scott took it gratefully, cringing violently at the onslaught of pain as he stood. Bobby generously took the man's weight onto his shoulders, frowning at the pale complexion he now dawned. The boy began leading the man towards the others but stopped when Scott pressured him back. Confused, he patiently stared up at his commanding officer.

Offering a terse grin through his mask of pain, Scott softly mumbled, "You did well." Obviously not expecting the praise, it took Bobby a moment to react. A broad yet burden heavy grin appeared after the hesitation. Shrugging indifferently, he gave more of his shoulder to the man and proceeded to guide him to the others.

Logan sluggishly eased off the blood soaked floor with the aid of Hank. The searing fire along his shoulders and back lessened and he groaned, habitually cracking his neck to ease the discomfort. Piqued by the muffled gunshots he glanced down the hall. The ice, riddled with webs of thick cracks, had managed to hold. Impressed he offered the boy a curt nod of approval.

Standing in the center of three diverting paths, Logan surveyed their options. The first path was the way they'd come and with the second now cut off by ice and the enemy; the third seemed the more logical option. The same conclusion seemed to grace Scott and the two men gravitated towards each other.

"You're bleeding," Logan stated calmly.

"So were you two seconds ago," Scott returned.

Connecting gazes intently, Logan murmured softly, "Her sent was leading me down there." He motioned to the barrier. "We go straight and I loose it."

"We turn left and we all get bullets in our heads. Unlike you we can't all recover from that," Scott quipped gently. "We go straight you might stumble upon it again. I doubt this is the only hallway she's been in."

Logan wasn't a believer in chance or fate, so the idea of hope, the hope that he would find Rogue's perfume again, did not sit well. In the end the decision was not his and he recognized that. "You're the boss," he relented, standing aside.

Shock reigned as the brutish man showed actual respect for Scott's leadership. Accepting Bobby's offered shoulder, Scott led them forward, hoping to put as much distance possible between them and the cracking ice.

TBC

* * *

**Author's Note: Once again I allowed far too much time to pass between updates. This year was my last year of High School! This of course meant final exams and Graduation ceremonies – i.e. no time for me! But I'm done now and have been forced to take this next year off in preparation for another knee surgery mid year. All of this means I'll have more time to write which I'm extremely excited about. Much love goes out to RogueChere who is still sticking by my side and kudos go out to Ashnan and Mechelle-VanPatten for their reviews. Just for the record I promise there is more to come after this, I already have chapters 16, 17, and most of 18 done, there may even be a 19 we'll see. **

**Gimpy **

**p.s. if you want to add your two cents about whether Logan or Scott should get the girl feel free – I've been making pro/con lists to no avail. **


	16. Avenging Angel

Moving On – Chapter 16

By

Gimpy

* * *

Pain, ungodly, all consuming and heart wrenching pain that clouded the mind, dragging Mystique crudely back into consciousness. Every morsel of nerve and muscle cried out as it pulsed with the sharp, searing agony. Screams followed. Earth shattering, tormented screams hit the barely lucid woman accosting her ears, seeping through the enforced metal barring her from escape. On the outer edge, just pasted the tormented cries blazing thunder echoed surging fear through her tender spine. The gunfire ragged in violent swells forcing the aching woman to act further from the foggy comfort of nothingness.

Biting back her own gargled cry, she forced her protesting upper body from the cool metal table. Mystique lurched forward, muscles turning to dead weight, unable to steadily contain the movement. A sticky substance trickled down her forehead, slicking into her eye before she had time to react. She tried to blink passed it, moaning as the potency stung the sensitive flesh.

Squinting, she surveyed her surroundings, cringing at the darkened sterile white. The fog in her head persisted, resurfacing memories unclear and confusing. Rogue, drenched and trembling at her door, she'd wanted… no, needed. She'd needed help. The car ride, Rogue's break down, the motel room. Everything after that remained huddled in the dark abyss of her memory.

Exploring the room further with harrowed eyes, she let out a startled gasp.

Blood.

The floor was drenched in oceans of hardened blood, the wall covered in splattered droplets, rivers dribbling to pool where wall and floor met. Its stale copper stench choked the woman perched atop the metal table. Turning her back on the grotesque display, her thoughts quickly traveled to Rogue, her stomach clenching.

The sounds of a massacre outside the large room stopped the damning trail of thought and she quickly sobered. Willing her unstable legs onto the freezing floor, she fought passed the cruel pain. The horror outside was creeping closer and she knew she had to be prepared when it came for her. Taking in what her surrounding truly meant she tried to change her form. As she willed her skin to morph a pinch scoured the back of her neck. Ignoring the prick she pressed harder for her mutation to work. The sting became too great, forcing her to give up with a muted whimper. Reaching for the pain she whimpered again, clasping and fingering the rubber knob that burrowed deeply through the skin.

The purpose of the small button was blatant and her fear, her despair grew twofold. Her once constant source of protection, her power, had been stripped. She felt disgusted, naked, horrified. She fought to conquer the absolute devastation, hyperventilating passed the terror enough to search the room for anything remotely weapon like. A row of surgical tables lining the side caught her attention and she hobbled over to it. Casting aside the paper cloth that covered the utensils, she tensed at the horrific array of blades and scalpels. Seeing them resting ominously on a bed of blue cloth, the amber light catching and glimmering on the smooth metal, brought unsettling images to the hardened woman. A tidbit of thought surfaced and she shuttered as it assaulted her with the idea that these crude weapons of torture had been used on innocent people whose only fault was their differences. The idea simply reinforced her stance on the human problem, something she hoped Rogue would now understand.

Ignoring the heinous intent of the blades she settled on the largest, testing its weight in her hand absently as she crept towards the two metal laden doors.

Rapid fire surged, crushing another tormented wave of desperate pleading. Holding the blade tightly to her chest, she quarreled with the fear as it swept up and threatened to blanket her instincts. The monstrous presence on the other side of the steal doors grew closer, another death resounding. Pity echoed in her heart for the lost life, a life she wished she could have saved.

At the coarse sound of heavy boots she dug her shoulder blades into the concrete. The nearer they came the softer they sounded until nothing but the sweet torturous rasps of her own haggard breathing could be heard. Time stood still, livened only by each inhale and for too long the silence persisted, tormenting the expectant woman.

When the crash came and the doors burst open she bit her tongue to keep the shrill scream from leaving her parted lips. Stilling her very breath, she waited. Red light beat through the new opening, following the rhythm of her quaking pulse. The whisper of a shadow forged with every flicker, a demonic head growing, dipping deeper each time amber light caressed the floor. The barrel of a gun inched through the threshold, its mussel eye level with the petrified woman.

The hand that clutched the weapon appeared with the next flash, then the wrist, then elbow. A shoulder graced her vision then the shadowed, invisible face, masked by a black helmet. The gun snaked along the room, coiled to strike its impending victim.

The blade twisted in her hand as she converged upon the executioner. A scaled, cracked arm curled and then jerked, stunting a sharp exclamation. The blade grazed, dug and slid along his jutting Adam's apple, warmth spreading from the narrow slit left in its wake. Loosening her hold, Mystique indifferently watched the lifeless body collapse.

Blood dripped from the blade, spotting the rocky floor as she rounded the body. Discarding the blade, she confiscated the gun, absently checking the chamber as she crept from the condemned lab.

* * *

The reverberation of inhuman pleas for mercy clawed and nipped at the numbing veil precariously guarding the desolate woman. The will for vengeance, once all consuming, was now abandoned. Her cage had been sealed and escape had become unreachable. Confined with the traumatic and hideous reality of a crime committed out of necessity, she inverted, became trapped within her own mind. Dim, blind, forest green pools fixated on a meaningless spot, the spirit within smothered, it's glorious light snuffed out.

Huddled beyond reach of the amber light, she coddled her mother in her lap, a disembodied hand solemnly conforming to the contours of the deceased woman's face. Steadily she brushed along the temple, dipping into her wiry, ragged hair and back again. The action became separate from the mind, not fully registering passed the catatonia.

On the outskirts of the mental blockade, beyond her barrier of recognition, the lock on the sealed doors unhinged, the separation between her and freedom cracking open. Leather gloves guided it apart, a foreboding shadow appearing at its threshold. It loomed within the narrow stripes that bordered the entrance, slowly, tantalizingly, devouring every surface and crevasse of the dank and eerie prison cell. Beady, morose eyes grove the hollow woman, thin, tight lips curling with condescension.

"Princess?" the towering man crooned spitefully, leering at the shell before him.

The mask remained, the woman showing no signs of having heard his taunt. A brow furrowed with contempt, the man daring to venture closer to the passive vessel. Skepticism narrowed his gaze, knees folding as he bent down. With his face a breath away from hers, he penetrated the distanced stare. The deadened eyes, pupil's pinholes amongst a sea of white, stared right though him, her state unchanged by his presence.

"Well," he chided, shifting closer, his sour breath rushing along ghostly white cheeks. "Isn't this convenient?" he sarcastically spat. "You think this is going to save you? Cowering like a child?"

The hateful words spilled from the shadow but none managed to pierce the protective bubble. Syllables intended to rouse and devastate only found indifference. The man knew her strength, had barred witness to the fires she contained, been on the receiving end. The first time he'd encountered the mutant she had stood in defiance, refusing to obey his orders. The flames existed, hidden beneath the shriveled exterior, he simply had to coerce them out.

"You think I won't kill a defenseless woman? That I'll think it's too barbaric, too inhuman? You're right," he forcibly murmured. "About one thing anyway, it is barbaric. The thing is," he seethed, leaning in, lips hovering next to her ear. "So am I… I don't give a rat's ass if you're too weak to defend yourself."

Drifting away, his beady eyes befall the body rigidly resting in Rogue's lap. With the tip of his leather glove, he lingered behind the ministrations of Rogue's hand, mocking her poignantly. Continuing to mimic Rogue's movements, he found her hardened stare once more, snarling venomously, "It seems neither do you."

The barb achieved its desired reaction, the barrier easing, hollow eyes twitching.

Sneering triumphantly, the soldier pressed harder. "People around you end up dead a lot, don't they? Not that I'm complaining," he quipped, elbows resting on his thighs, hands hanging down. "Kale Peters… I owe you for that one, Princess."

The protective wall loosened a little more and fresh tears dangled heavily. A semblance of reality clawed at Rogue's sides, gnawing and nipping. The steady trail her sluggish hand was traveling became erratic, long fingers trembling.

"It felt damn good to put him in his place, and I have you to thank, don't I?"

Rogue's pupils widened as a single, striking tear broke free, glimmering in the soft red hue. The caress halted completely, blistered fingertips clinging desperately to the dead woman.

"Do you hear them? The screams?"

Vaguely the horrific sound was granted access, her shivers growing fiercer.

"Those are because of you!" Monstrous palms snatched the timid woman, forcing her from the floor. The body slipped from her grasp followed by a soft, sharp whine. The soldier shoved her into the wall, seething, "If it weren't for your little friends coming to the rescue those people wouldn't be dying!"

Rogue's eyes finally shifted, snapping to gaze up at the man. The words, their meaning, rushed through her like a demolition ball, slamming and shattering the numbing barricade.

"You're weak," he roared as more salty tears were released. "Just like Kale. He never knew what it meant to be a man or a soldier for that matter. He let his guard drop. And for what? You? You got him killed."

Rogue's watery eyes flickered, her face and neck reddening as she strained to physically deny the brutal words.

"You're a danger to everyone around you," he maliciously crooned. "She found out the hard way didn't she?"

The fiercely trembling woman automatically bowed her head, cowering from him. Through her tainted vision she tormented herself, gazing forlornly at the woman she loved, who had risked everything, gave up everything for the dream of keeping Rogue safe.

"You're a poison," he accused, long, thick fingers imprinting their mold into her forearms.

Rogue's line of sight jumped at the intense pain, coming to rest on the shiny, black metal, perched on his hip. The self-induced haze refused to evaporate, her every movement and thought too slow to grasp fully. The handgun hung precariously, tempting her to use it but her mind refused to formulate the want into action.

"Guess that makes me the cure." The man was mocking her, chuckling hoarsely, venomously, at his own inept musings.

A sickening dread consumed her, the will to live beyond this moment meant the death of another man. There didn't seem to be enough strength left within her to do it. Words he'd spewed returned to her - '_little friends coming to rescue you…_' - They're here. Instead of relief she felt anguish. The mere notion of those she loved seeing the kind of monster she'd become was terrifying. She couldn't let that happen and it became her driving force.

Jaggedly she struggled to speak, the words breathy, uncontrolled. "Ah… am poison…"

The muddled sound startled the man, the power of his hold pressing her into the wall more harshly. He hadn't expected complacency and found himself lost for words.

"But… yah are… no cure." The broken sentence became accentuated but shallow inhales. The once mellow, despondent green eyes returned menacing and spiteful.

The sudden change, the renewed voracity that weighed heavily on her bruised and battered face, sent waves of uncertainty through the man. Feigning courage, the soldier retorted, "No? Then what am I, Princess?"

"Just… another… victim," she murmured, seething the words with an absolution that could not be denied.

The man glared at her in confusion, questions radiating. A muted but sharp clicking resounded in answer. His eyes widened, hand swiftly reaching for his sidearm only to find the holster empty. Their eyes connected, a second of mutual hate resonating. Rogue pulled and a single shot exploded between them. The darkened man stumbled back, a hand clasping at his side, crimson gushing between tightened fingers. Shock reigned on his callused features. Without the man's powerful grasp holding her up, Rogue slid, barely managing to keep herself upright.

Gawking at the blood flowing from him, a deeply disturbed chuckled forged from his twisted lips. More blood stained his teeth as he grinned maniacally up at her. "This, just proves, what I said," he sputtered, sick laughter coursing through him as he dropped to his knees.

"No," Rogue gasped.

Grunting, he arched forward, pressing against the spilling wound. Impassioned, she watched as his life slowly drained. Doubled over, hunched in pain, his seedy eyes leered up at her. She pushed off the wall onto unstable legs. The gun targeted him once more, the woman behind the weapon, cold, calculated.

"Ah am poison, Captain… Always will be. Ah didn't, need yah, ta tell me that. But what happened ta Kale… was his choice, not mine… His guard didn't drop, an' he wasn't weak… his death was his freedom, yours will be your damnation."

"No!" he grunted viciously.

Anticipation overwhelmed her, another shot echoing within the small cell. The man's diving form collapsed, the second bullet burrowing into his chest. A guttural, hacking cough convulsed his crumbled form, the hint of masochistic laughter still sounding as he rolled onto his back. Training the weapon on his quaking chest she dropped to his side. His mocking eyes, trailed in fear, found hers. No emotion showed on her blank face, even as the man cried out at the violent pressure of the gun digging into his stomach.

Rogue slowly leaned over, using the gun as leverage, bringing her pale, cracked lips to his ear. Softly she wheezed, "Where's… Kemelman?"

* * *

A deformed foot, no toes, just a stub, bubbled and blistered, twisting in its connection to a bone thin ankle. A calve few inches too short, scrawny and lacking muscle with tendons bulging from stretched, translucent skin. A knee that's potholed and engorged, draped by a ratty tainted smock that refused to sustain her shame. Her hands are grown to perfection, every digit present and immaculate. Her slender arms are demure and elegant. Humble breasts are round and enticing but unmoving. Lips are swollen and lush, womanly. Nose is sloped and pointed yet graceful. Eyes are too far apart and milky, brows bulging, stretching taunt skin to accommodate. Hair is tousled and muddy, holes baring scalp and scar alike. Skin is coarse, gray, and coated in dust and dirt. Torso is long and sleek but marked, burrowed and ravaged by holes, each one releasing life.

A man is posed beside her, his life mixing with hers. His skin and bone is natural, normal, without defect but he has a useless mutation and thus no chance. A younger man is recklessly slumped against him, his skin discolored, blotchy and peeling. A woman is draped at his feet, no imperfections with a useful mutation but a spirit that refused to give in. Another man contorted and unfinished. A dozen more rest beyond, each spilling precious life onto curved, warped rock. Each grown but deemed unworthy, pushed aside, studied and caged, then discarded, murdered when they only bared liability.

Surpassing the sacrilege came an oddity amongst oddities. A man guarded in black, blanketed in the shadowed uniform, indistinguishable beneath military apparel. He was the murderer of blameless innocence and cavities gouged poorly crafted protection, his worthless life mingling unfairly with that of purity. Five others mirror the monstrous man - murderers slaughtered in kind, karma fulfilling its purpose.

The avenger was unknown to the stalwart observers who stood crushed by the complete and total lack of respect for life. The bellows of the innocent ones had drawn them, their hearts seared to heroics. But they were too late.

Were they doomed to repeat? Would they make it in time to save the angel they'd come in search of? Hope seemed to dwindle the longer they stood within the horror. The worst came in the form a lingering, minute, whisper that each member would forever refuse they heard. Had their angel reaped this havoc? Had it been her hand to avenge?

The bearded, hardened Logan could not deny her sent as it weaved around the jumbled mess of copper, gunpowder, and tears. It was faint but ultimately there and it instilled in him emotions that scared him - pride and admiration. The scene before the small team was beyond description in its gore and yet his sickened mind felt pride.

"You… don't think that she-" Jubilee gave voice to his thoughts.

None of them had the courage to answer, too disturbed by the thought alone. Swallowing stiffly, Logan sought out the leader with burden heavy eyes. The man, still standing because of the boy, met the gaze half way. A moment of understanding passed between the friends. They had to continue on, both knew it but neither one was confident in their ability to remain strong. Not if what they found was more death, one in particular.

There was so much unsaid, so many threads left unfinished that neither man could stand the idea of not finding closure. The confusion, the intention, where hearts lay, it all needed to be dealt with. Answers, they needed answers and finding them was to become their driving force, the reason why Logan cautiously and respectfully weaved around the bodies of innocence, taking point with his sensitive palette.

The others solemnly followed, Scott resting heavily on Bobby who said nothing, simply adjusting the man's weight further onto himself. The boy looked haunted, his own innocence devoured by the gruesome reality. He questioned wanting to be an X-Men, now understanding fully why the man he half carried had been so adamant against his being there.

Scott wanted to reassure him, ease the troubled darkness that was clouding his boyish charms. Yet the truth negated that comfort and the boy was old enough to see through any lie he'd try and throw at him. So instead he remained quite, bowing from the carnage as they passed it.

Once a fair distance was placed between them and the sacrilege a scent different from the rest invaded Logan. The familiarity of it made him pause, the proximity sending alarms off in his overrun mind. His senses swiftly heightened as absolute recognition settled.

"What's the Brother Hood doing involved in a place like this?" he seethed in no particular direction, stunning the members following him.

All bodies stilled, Logan awaiting response with the other four simply mimicking, hoping insanity wasn't the cause of the sudden outburst. A shallow, beaten laugh splurged from nowhere, catching all but Logan off guard.

"Does that metal simply outline your brain or is it made out of it too?" a woman sarcastically spat, the voice finding familiarity with everyone.

"Funny," Logan snarled back.

"No, what's funny is you thinking that an organization hell bent on preserving the mutant race would have anything to do with a place like this," the woman bit out.

Logan tilted his head towards a shadowed corner, leering menacingly as he grunted out, "Then why are ya here Mystique?"

Slowly Mystique's long, sleek and battered form immerged, a striking sadness devouring her normally sterile face. "Look at me," she demanded sorrowfully. "Why do you think I'm here?"

Indignantly, Logan drank in the damage that riddled the ocean colored woman. Outside of the cuts and bruises what stood out most was the horrifying amount of blood. "It was you, you're the one-"

"I did what had to be done, nothing more…" Mystique interrupted, her entire disposition somber.

The glare Logan harbored for the nemesis eased, gratitude replacing it for barely a moment. Something seemed off to the sensitive man and he advanced on the weary woman. Unfazed, Mystique allowed him to inhale the air around her, knowing full well what he would find. Logan growled hoarsely and she jolted, finding his gaze and holding it.

"She came to me," she defended to which Logan scoffed.

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want," she choked back.

Eyeing her suspiciously, Logan barked, "Why would she do that?"

Mystique shook her head and scoffed. "There is so much you don't know about her."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Logan retorted defensively.

An understanding gradually furrowed Mystique's brow, the hardened glare softening despite the mutual dislike she felt for the shady man. The tension holding her together faltered and she slumped back, utilizing the stone wall to keep upright. Once again shadowed with the darkened haze, only Logan's acute vision could make her out. The sudden alteration confused the man and he dipped into the darkness with her.

"I won't be the one to tell you," she admonished softly. "It's not my place."

"Why would she go to you?" Logan brashly grilled.

"Because she trusts me," she bit out through clenched teeth. "Believe that or not I don't care. I have to find her…" The woman's husky voice trailed off, her nimble fingers reaching to brush against the black knob attached to her neck.

"I don't trust you."

Briskly, Mystique grabbed his arm, ignoring his resistance and bringing his burly hand to the base of her neck. "You feel that!" she snapped. "I don't know what the hell it is except that I can't use my mutation."

Tearing out of the sickening hold, Logan fled the shadow, his glare searing. "What's your point?"

"You are so dense," Mystique raged, disentangling herself from the gathered darkness. "If they put one in me what would stop them from putting one in her? Her only defense is her mutation! Are you really willing to stand around arguing about semantics while she's an open target?"

Irate, Logan fought an overwhelming need to smack the righteous look from the woman's face. The mistrust he harbored raged, the man unwilling to be persuaded by the cunning woman. The choice was ultimately take from him when a clear, concise discharging of a gun rattled through the halls.

Mystique's heart fell at the sound, the ruin visible on her marred features. Scowling at the abrasive man, she stormed passed him, her pace picking up into a full on run.

TBC…

**Author's Note – Okay my beta has mysteriously disappeared so she never got to this or the ones before this, as I'm sure you've all been able to tell by the mistakes. I got antsy about leaving this go for too long so I'm posting anyway, apologies for any massive mistakes you might find. Enjoy and thank you all so much for the reviews.**

**Much Love,**

**Gimpy**


	17. Selfless Grace

Moving On Chapter 17

By Gimpy

* * *

Thick blue thighs pumped feverishly, tender muscles expanding and contorting beyond their scope, edging closer to their breaking point. Torrents of fire lashed and raged against the nerve endings, desperate to stop yet pushing harder as a reckless despair fueled the crushing steps.

The reaper's bony hand pursued the racing woman, she could feel it, see it in the bloody footprints that tailed her with each rock of blue feet along granite. Death was nipping at her heels and she ran from it, ran from the lost innocence that threatened to throttle and the deserving murders that forged a sickness. The sights, sounds and smells of it pounded on her heart and squeezed at her soul. It forced her forward, blind to the ironic nature of her quest. For every morsel of distance she forced between herself and the decay she'd left, she grew closer to an even worse chaos.

The bodies wouldn't outnumber all that had come before. Only one dead and one other verging on its precipice. The infliction wasn't more gruesome then what the soldiers had done to the defenseless, deprived mutants they had held in captivity. What would stifle her more than that, what would clog her throat and steal her breath was who had committed the emotionless, defacing act. With every newly revealed crimson droplet she would feel the girl darken, a girl she loved beyond tangibility.

She knew without fully knowing, without facts that Rogue had spilled blood. With that knew found knowledge Mystique felt her resolve weaken.

Jagged breaths scraped through her as the insurmountable and bold truths starved her lungs. The vision of the lifeless woman, barely clothed, twisted and mangled would sear itself into Mystique's memory where it would remain as a testament to her failure as both mother and protector. The effort to tear her gaze from the ghastly form surpassed all she had exerted up to that point. Where her amber eyes fell afterward forged fury.

The soldier lay plastered in black, painted in red, the reason for his presence becoming blatant as he writhed. He was an angel of death come to extract life, to destroy Rogue before the rescue could be completed. It seemed destiny had sided against him, evident in the gunshot wounds inflicted by a weapon he had brought.

Rivulets of scarlet seeped from the ravaging holes as Mystique crouched at his side, seething her spite. Fish mouthed, he gasped his needs, his wants for a swift end, the gargled syllables stunted but audible despite the pool of crimson lodged in his throat.

"Did you do the same for her?" Mystique crudely questioned motioning to the mangled woman who had become the epitome of destruction, years of unyielding pain contorting her humanity in such violently visible ways.

The man jerked at the question, sputtering beads of crimson from paling lips as he defensively retorted, "Not me, _her_."

Mystique's harvest eyes flickered, wretched tears slicking the glowing orbs. Shock wanted to rein in the wake of his accusation, disbelief more then willing to follow so she could balk at the baseless notion. She tried to justify it, telling herself the soldier had every reason to lie. He was an instigator, a malicious evil that thrived on creating torment. It was a lie, one she desperately wanted to give in to.

"Where is she?" she demanded, neglecting the man's words and clinging to the angelic pedestal she'd carefully crafted for her adoptive daughter.

"You honestly… love that bitch… like a daughter… don't you?" the weathering soldier spewed, his frail form surging from the floor so his blood-streaked face could invade hers.

Long scaly fingers dug through scraggly brown hair, twisting the strands and wrenching back. A muted cry billowed within the man's stretched and strained neck, veins bulging along his forehead, face shading to a deep red as blood rushed beneath the skin.

"You don't… even realize… the kind of monster… she is." The words came in sporadic bursts, air bubbles forcing more blood from the back of his tainted throat.

"Keep talking, you're only making it worse for yourself," Mystique coldly warned, bitter laughter edging along the sentiment.

A deadened humor illuminated the soldier's dying gray eyes. "You aren't… her mother, best you get…. that through your head… before you end up… like _her_."

Creases of confusion graced blue scales as the man shifted his gaze. Drawing in shallow breaths, Mystique mimicked him, hesitantly following his stare. The implication refused to register as she once again took in the disturbing sight of the dead woman. Its harrowing meaning barely seeped into Mystique's maddening mind. Slowly she reexamined the only description Rogue had ever given of her mother. Reaching passed the disfigurement of the corpse and filtering through blood and dirt forced reality once again upon Mystique's swiftly crowding shoulders.

The pieces viciously came together, her impermeable grip loosing all strength. The soldier's weakened body could only free fall, colliding with concrete soundly. _It couldn't be_, was all Mystique allowed herself to think. She refused the pricking of belief, denied it as it surfaced. Gingerly it dawned and crudely it settled until all she had left with was the narrow, impassable idea that there was more to it. There simply had to be more depth, more explanation. That Rogue would mercilessly and viciously kill the woman she truly considered mother was implausible. The first mother had been a tethering for the young woman, a source of strength as much as weakness. (A fact that had Mystique giving way to bouts of jealousy on more then one occasion.) No, Rogue could not have intently and willingly taken this woman's life. The reality, however, did not align with the notion.

Taking the corpse in whole, studying her, a gradual understanding breached her incapability to believe. Beyond any shadow, Mystique knew that this woman before her had been the aggressor. The wounds spoke for themselves, were too blatant to see passed. The claw marks, the restraining bruises… Mystique recognized them, envisioned the defensive attacks that had caused them, knowing each move as ones she had taught Rogue.

Veering back on the coughing, sputtering monster that lay at her feet, her determination found new glory. A fact not lost and most assuredly frightening to the decaying man. Lithely Mystique drew her quivering hand along the officer's blood soaked armor, fingertips grazing through an ocean of crimson until her thumb hovered dangerously above his abdomen.

"You _will_ tell me what you know," she crooned.

A burgeoning protest formed on paling lips.

In response her looming thumb dipped closer to the gaping gunshot wound. "About this complex, the experiments done here, what you wanted with Rogue and what really happened in this room. Then you _will_ tell me where Rogue has gone."

With each new demand for information the pad of Mystique's thumb drew downward until the last syllable was expelled and the appendage jerked suddenly, vanishing within blood and cloth. A strangled scream flourished from the soldier, its sickening sound ravishing through the gutted halls of the complex until it burrowed into five equally sharp and anxious ears of the sluggish X-Men team.

Bobby stumbled at the sound, his already awkward, weighted down movements losing stability. He tripped and floundered, all too conscious of the man whose weight he bared. It was all he could do to stay upright, the jarring easing a startled and pain filled gasp from Scott as a new fire ignited and scoured his throbbing shoulder. Baring all his might, Bobby braced the brunt of the weight onto his tiring thighs, his grip on the older man tightening to keep him standing even if he, himself, fell. Out of the darkness a warm arm wound its way around the weathering young man's waist, a tousle of black hair appearing at his side. The added weight gave balance back to the two men and the huddled group came to a jerky but all out stop. Relief graced them for a moment, Bobby expressing it in a soft kiss along the young beauty's hairline to which Jubilee flushed brightly.

The moment was all but shattered as another scream crashed around them, reminding them of the reason for the near tumble. Scott glanced ahead, his rose tainted vision searching hesitantly for the already irate Wolverine. Guilt swarmed him, the beginnings of self-hatred forming for having cost the group precious time. The seething, piercing glare Logan cast towards him only intensified the emotion.

The Wolverine advanced on the wounded Scott, teeth grinding violently together. Nostrils flaring, mouth tight lipped, Logan grunted at the man before swiveling back around and devouring the path ahead of him. Grounding to a halt mere meters away he turned back, taking two steps towards the small group.

"Summers, so help me! If we're too late!" The snarl passed his thinly drawn lips, the threat open-ended but very real. No longer complacent to the compromised leader, Logan charged off, his poised and arched form vanished from view within seconds, leaving the remaining four to their own devises.

For a sliver of time Scott contemplated resting, allowed himself the guilty, pleasurable idea of finally freeing himself of the damaging pain. The miniscule sliver ended and the leader returned with avenging force. Connecting eyes with Hank, he motioned him forward, silently asking the large man to pick up the scent where Logan had left off. Nodding somberly the mass of blue set a pace just shy of resembling a swift jog.

The space between the lone man and the group swelled with Logan wreaking neck-breaking speeds, surging onwards as he honed in on the gargled and haunting screams of a man tortured. The echo heightened, barreling into the man's sensitive eardrums along with a distinct odor of blood, sweat and death that churned his stomach. Grappling the last corner in his massive palm he used it to slingshot around.

A pair of double doors assaulted his vision, the metal protruding into a dank room, a hollow darkness illuminating from the gaping hole between them. The sight forced Logan to skid to a graceless halt, fear stilling him as his senses doubled their effort to assess the path ahead. A single inhale told him Rogue had in fact been there, had been wounded there. A second inhale devastated him when it revealed her scent was stale, nearly a quarter of an hour old. The third, however, let him know that his blue skinned nemesis occupied it along with a man whose stench of blood coated its entirety.

Silently Logan stalked the open doors, pinhole eyes devouring the expanse as it was revealed to him. Hovering like a wild dog over its prey, Mystique recoiled as he appeared at the threshold. Logan leered at the scene, a shadowed brow rising. The distinct sound of shallow breaths filled the room, sounds of the soldier struggling relentlessly to stay alive. His placid eyes gazed at the ceiling but never saw it. He was blind, oncoming death having warped his vision. Yet he continued as if watching the amber lights cascading back and forth along the concrete. Unabashedly, Mystique mirrored the brow raise, daring him to comment. Logan did not; remaining an observer as the lucid woman leaned over the man.

Sardonically she murmured into his ear, lips grazing his whitening flesh. Softly, melodically she condemned him, vowing to end his life; coldly informing him it was not an act of mercy but that of devotion. His death would not taint her daughter. It would be done by her hands not Rogue's.

Logan simply stood by and watched, appearing calm and composed on the outside. Inside a whirlwind of thoughts were racing as she threatened death, admitted love and then proclaimed her selflessness. It dawned on him then, the truth she spoke of before, the relationship she had tried to share that he had refused. This woman; enemy to their cause, an evil all her own, being so open and blunt with the love she harbored. It astounded the gruff man, gave way to a deep appreciation. Mystique's willingness to take this killing onto herself and off of Rogue was something Logan had never bared witness to. It was complete and unconditional love, a feat he didn't believe actually existed. He suddenly found himself grateful for her presence, glad that Rogue had this woman to turn to. He no longer felt the pang from Rogue's choosing the antagonist over him.

The continuous shallow breaths waned, lost in the abyss of lifelessness forever. It forced the boorish man from thought. He returned his attention in time to watch as Mystique gracefully raised from the floor with a trying frown.

"I know where she is," she whispered in a hushed tone, unwilling to taint the room with boisterous sounds.

"Daughter?" One word, that's all he could muster under the deep and meaningful weight of what had just transpired.

The question would have surprised her had she not been expecting it. Still she struggled with the answer, unsung tears wallowing and glistening in the amber sheen. A tempered jerk of the head was all she could muster as she gingerly made her way to his looming shadow.

"You tried to kill her," Logan forcibly reminded her, more to understand than to accuse.

"Technically," she quipped humbly, "Magneto tried to kill her."

It was a vain attempt at deflection, halfhearted in its execution. It was obvious nothing less then the truth would satisfy, so begrudgingly Mystique gave it.

"I was doing my job," she started listlessly, the words more declaration of guilt then excuse. "A job that has always taken precedence over everything else in my life. Marie knows that… it's why she ran, why you found her…" Mystique couldn't help but pause, uncertain if she should continue. Chancing a glance at the dead woman, Mystique sighed despondently and forced the words as they clogged her throat. "I'm a little fuzzy on the details but I learned enough to know that this can wait. It has to. Marie shot that soldier defensively, killed that woman defensively. She had just cause, but right now she is on the verge of killing a man in cold blood out of revenge."

Mystique watched as her admission settled, watched as the man before her suddenly drew inward, a scowl forming with the weight of it all. He said nothing, lips pressing lightly together, his head tilting to the side. Interest welled within the woman as the Wolverine's attentions drifted away from her.

"The others are coming," he finally barked out, taking Mystique's arm gently, leading her out of the room and into the hall. "Go, find her, stop her."

"You're not coming with me?" she asked seriously, confused.

"There's something I gotta do first," Logan confessed mutely, "I'll be right behind ya."

She glanced to where the stoic man's gaze firmly remained, nodding though she didn't understand. The moment the pressure on her arm released she took off, following the soldier's directions blindly. Logan listened to her retreating form as he waited for the fatigued team to round the corner he had moments before.

A blur of blue saddled the corner first, his momentum already waning as he neared his destination and halting all together when he caught sight of Logan's defining silhouette.

"Where is she?" he questioned, instantly searching for Rogue, going stoic when she was nowhere to be found.

Logan ignored the man and watched as the other three appeared behind the behemoth. Each wheezed harshly, taking the moment's rest to replenish. Logan took the moment to visually check the struggling leader's status. Beads of sweat not born from the excursion slicked his forehead. A graying tint had formed on his skin, the striking red having consumed the makeshift tourniquet soaking through its cotton material. Lines of distress wrinkled his unshaven face which was barely visible from his hunched over position. Bobby leaned with him, worry present but going unvoiced. It was obvious to everyone the man was getting worse, loosing more blood and using too much energy. It made Logan's decision easier to make.

Coughing coarsely, Scott softly waved off the boys concern with a stern but leery smile. Looking up he caught sight of the cryptic and suddenly sullen Logan, his nerves quickly surfacing. "Why the stop?" he breathed huskily, eyes darting to find a reason for the Wolverine's shift.

Sighing deeply, Logan spoke emotionlessly, "I'm goin' it alone."

The words slowly settled, stunning the leader. Forcing himself to stand taller, he stammered out, "Excuse me?"

"This ain't up for debate." Logan's voice remained level, his stare constant.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" Scott rebutted sarcastically. "I swear you just gave me an order."

"We don't got time ta argue, Summers," Logan started, trying to keep calm.

"Enlighten me as to why you think you have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do?" the man barbed back, releasing his hold on the boy and staggering forward.

A roll of the eyes followed Scott's attempted display of strength. "You're wounded, just cause ya can walk all on your lonesome don't change that," Logan retorted, releasing a small amount of anger at the arrogance of the leader. "You've become a liability and you know it," Logan pressed, ushering closer to the now seething man.

"I'm still in charge," Scott reminded him hotly as his vision began to swim.

"Ya can barely stand for cryin' out loud," Logan surged, his tone that of caring. "You're slowing us down and we can't afford it."

"I know it isn't my place to say," Hank graciously intervened, Logan's abrupt words making him want to put it more amicably. "However as a doctor and a friend I cannot let the opportunity pass," he reasoned, coming to the leader's side. "Though the amount of blood you've lost isn't fatal, you have begun to show signs of anemia. I cannot, in good conscience, let you go any further. It will only get worse and you know, as well as I, that without all your faculties you become a liability, one we cannot afford as Logan not so gracefully though correctly stated."

Disgruntled understanding began to rear on the angered x-man.

"Right now Rogue's huntin' down the bastard who runs this hellhole and she ain't doin' it so they can talk," Logan added seriously, hoping to sway the man fully.

"She's what?" Scott exclaimed, disturbed by the new insight, wide eyes staring at Logan.

"Yeah," Logan murmured, faintly unsettled himself. "So I gotta move and I gotta do it fast. Can't with you here."

"Marie wouldn't outright murder a man," Scott protested weekly. When no agreement came from Logan, Scott's face fell even further. Disbelief scoured the paling man as he challenged the idea, "Would she?"

A hollow formed in his stomach when Logan diverted his stare. Scott's ears started to ring, his distress circling and expanding. All of a sudden he felt faint and shaky, his heart picking up speed as he started to ask a question he didn't want the answer to.

"Has she?"

Somberly, Logan jerked his head, silently motioning to the open room. It was all he could do. Painstaking as it was, the man deserved to know. It took a moment for Scott to even want to look at the recessing hole and he regretted it when he did.

"It was self-defense," Logan muttered.

Scott balked at the sight, rearing around swiftly. Dizziness consumed when he did, spots converging on his vision. He swayed, Bobby returning to his side, smoothly taking back his weight. The young man didn't dare look into the room. Didn't know how he would react if he did.

"Get to the bird, ready it for quick take off, I'll bring her to ya."

"Okay," Scott murmured, the word flowing barely above a whisper.

TBC…

* * *

**Author's Note: I started this chapter a long time ago but never got around to finishing it. A little over a week ago I picked it back up. Why has it taken me this long to post? You ask.Simply put I no longer have a beta so I had to reread over and over again to try and get as many of the mistakes as I could. Alas it is done and finally here. Much, Much thanks to all the reviews and begs for more. Hope this was worth the wait.**

**(more to come, I promise, just needs some rereading)**

**-Gimpy-**


	18. Shared Burdens

Moving On – Chapter 18

By Gimpy

* * *

She wasn't real, not in the most primal of ways. Her conception had been unnatural; the very foundation of her make-up, the binomials of her very genome were fabricated. There was no mother who had birthed her, no father to have watched over in fear and elation and it scared her to think her beloved and cherished surrogate daughter was… well, quite frankly Mystique wasn't sure what to call her. What was the technical name for a child not born through natural cause or effect? Was there even one that did not involve obscenities or cruelties such as abomination? She couldn't call her a clone, at least not decisively, and if she wasn't one, what did that make her? In the eyes of the world she was already an anomaly, labeled a mutant, a freak. What would they label her now? What was to come of all this? 

She didn't have those answers. All Mystique knew was she loved Rogue, she had been and would always be her daughter. Daughter not by blood but through heart and heart alone and that was all that mattered, that is what drove her through the scarlet flickering halls towards the complex's massive command center. No matter what the outcome, her love would not change. She only hoped she could reach the fiery little girl she had helped raise into the feisty young woman before she lost herself completely to the harsh and new reality.

All Mystique wanted was to protect Rogue, a notion and ideal she had negated far too many times for reasons that should never have taken precedence over the young woman. How could she have known that the frail and dying soldier's words had been wrong? They were instructions he had fully believed in and he would have been right had he done it ten minutes before. Kemelman was no longer in the command epicenter but the faint captain hadn't known that. Rogue hadn't chased him there but the frantic, desperate woman, devouring hall after hall, had no way of discovering that until it was already too late to turn back.

When Mystique reached the hub, all she found was emptiness. No malicious master mind, no fractured and vengeful heroine, no grand and prolific battle raging between ultimate foes of good and evil, all she found was shattered glass, scorched paper and a crumbling sense of faith. Her cerulean form swirled within the threshold of the broken room, frenzied eyes searching wildly for what she knew wasn't there and when it finally settled on her that she had failed again, all she could manage was a tortured sob as fresh, damning tears overwhelmed her.

What did she do now? Where did she go? This complex was a mystery to her, a giant maze wherein she was the foolish rat. Salvation for Rogue was no longer in her hands, it was up to Logan, whose heightened senses, she prayed, would catch on and lead him down the right path.

* * *

White, glazed and tiring eyes, peered solemnly and determinedly through the thick glass of the impressive black jet nestled along the southern tree line. Storm sat at its pilot seat, unwilling to give in to the exhaustion as it tugged at her and too stubborn to let go of the clouds above. For nearly an hour now she had remained in this seat, staring at the same patch, pouring every last shred of her power, her heart, and her soul into angering the night sky above. Without word to the wise, without a friendly voice to tell her it was over, she would continue until physically and mentally it became impossible. The strain, however, was taking its toll, wearing her thin, stretching her beyond her scope. A pressure had begun to build in the overcast midway into the near hour long excursion, one she struggled to fight. She could sense the fat, engorged droplets of rain gather at the base of the electrically charged clouds she had forged. Slowly it was amassing and slowly her ability to keep them at bay waned. Still she fought it, berating herself as sly drops slipped past her resolve.

She didn't know how much longer she could hold out, how much longer she could go without knowing what was becoming of her teammates, her friends, her family. The stress was threatening to take her under and she was starting to appease the idea. Two solid and heavy drops of rain bounced on the windshield before the weather goddess, diminishing the resolve, making victory a murky idea. Stealing herself, she tried to intensify her power, a crease knitting menacingly along her forehead when the force of it only weakened her further. Mother Nature wanted to release her bounty, the foreboding entity pushing for the downpour.

In the end, Storm was no match for the ancient being. In the end, sounds of light footfalls racing up the metal ramp behind her and a brash feminine voice startled her enough to give Mother Nature the upper hand. In the end the sky opened up and a torrent of rain rushed downward as gusts of wind became violent and forceful. In the end, when the weight lifted from the lithe woman, she slumped forward just barely catching herself against the control panel.

"Ms. Monroe?" Jubilee questioned timidly, the once viral and overzealous girl no longer so. Coming to her elders side, she knelt down, concern wafting for the compromised Storm.

Gazing down at the distressed Jubilee, Storm offered a pursed but assuring smile. Through labored breath she spoke, "I am fine, the others?"

At the mention of the troupe behind her, Jubilee's face reddened and her eyes watered, instilling fear in the tired woman. "They're coming," Jubilee murmured softly, "Boss Man's hurt, we had to come back."

"How badly?" Storm asked, becoming alarmed and attempting to erect herself, to which she failed.

Swiftly the younger of the two ushered her back down, hurriedly rushing to explain, "No, no, no… Don't get up. It's just a shoulder wound, Hank says he'll be fine."

"You're sure?" she queried despite the visible mellow washing over her.

Jubilee shrugged halfheartedly. "Apparently it looks worse than it is."

As the younger woman spoke the words, more footfalls graced the ramp and both turned eagerly. The crown of Scott's head and Bobby's stress-marked face appeared first through the thickness of night's hold. A mass of blue clung to the two men's heals, the grave-faced doctor toeing behind. The sight of their hallowed leader nearly folded over, just barely clinging to the boy, forced Storm to silently pray that Jubilee's words were true and it was simply worse in appearance.

"Over there," Hank directed the men, pointing to the row of seats lining the wall in the back.

Hoisting the slightly moaning man up to get a better grip, Bobby followed the command. The leader gasped sharply as he was eased onto the seat, trying to help with the movements, but unable. Propping him up against the wall, Bobby quickly darted out of Hank's way. Storm watched grimly as the complete upper half of Scott's uniform was peeled off, revealing more blood than she had seen come from one man. A gruesome raspberry red had drenched the once white cloth and had drizzled down his chest and side. Sternly, Beast barked orders to the ashen faced boy and the women watched him dance around the back heeding each one with conviction.

Suddenly a shadow dawned on Storm's dark put paled complexion. "Wait, where's Wolverine and Rogue?"

No one answered. The three men at the back ignoring the question and the teen crouched at her side bowing away.

"Jubilation Lee, tell me," she hotly whispered.

Abashed and flushed the girl forced her head to tilt towards Storm as she obeyed. "We had to come back… so Logan went ahead. He'll find her, I know he will." The latter was added as an after thought but bared every last tendril of belief the girl still harbored.

Storm found herself believing it too. The Wolverine would bridge heaven and hell f or Rogue. So it wasn't a question of him bringing her home, it was more of what state she would be in. Gazing tiredly out the vast windshield at the pitch-blackness, broken solidly by crashes of thunder, she nervously watched as the rain fell harder, heavy pelts sounding along the entirety of the large bird.

* * *

On the opposite end of the enormous facility, three huddled men raced from its southern entrance. Kemelman, welded between the two, held an arm above his head to keep the strikingly cold drops from stinging his face. The earth beneath their feet loosened under the battering becoming slick and threatening to swallow each step the men took. As one they forged uphill, slipping and fighting the muddy slope. Once at the top, the man to Kemelman's right strayed ahead, racing towards a gleaming, unmarked, black helicopter. The other two remained at the edge of the landing pad, the soldier turning to his commanding officer.

"What about the others?" the short, soaking man cried out to Kemelman trying to overcome the sound of rain, the wind, and the helicopter's motor starting.

Arm still raised above his head, Kemelman blinked passed the rivers of rainwater as they trickled down his face and threatened his eyes. "What about them?"

The helicopter struggled against the third man's tinkering, interrupting the leader's words. Both officer and commander watched as the long blades shifted but refused to do more. The engine sputtered gratefully to life and then mercilessly died again.

Growing frustrated by the continuing barrage of piercing rain, the failure to start the helicopter and the soldier's insubordinate question, Kemelman turned once more to the officer and spat venomously. "If anyone else were coming they'd be here by now!"

The young officer moved to rebut but did not, knowing that if he so choose, Kemelman would leave him behind as well. "Yes, sir," he forced out in a sort of curse.

Once again the massive machine's engine refused to turn over, the man inside becoming indignant to its disobedience. A flurry of hands raced along its cramped control panel, flicking switches and tapping gauges, desperate for the drenched contraction to burst to life. Freeing his now frozen hands from weighed down leather gloves he attacked the panel more viciously, attempting to the start once more before halting to glare venomously at the fuel gauge. Tauntingly the needle spiked along the circle as power was forced though the machine. Damagingly the thin red stick dropped to its beginning point, mockingly indicating to a vibrantly colored and bold E that rested on the bottom. The fuel tank was mercilessly empty, had been suckled dry and never replenished.

"Shit!" he spat, slamming a balled up, glove-less and tinting hand on the meter scale. Teasingly it bounced, hiking upward before cascading down and coming to rest at a mark lower than it had before. "Fucking hell!"

Snatching his gloves up from the passenger seat and forcing them into his back pocket, he grabbed the upper rim on the left side and pulled himself out. Ignoring the searing glare from Kemelman, he pointed at the younger officer.

"Go back inside and get me the damned replacement fuel!" he shouted over the wind's rushing force.

Peering at Kemelman for permission and receiving it, the ensign darted towards the reckless hill, taking to it as fast as he could. Each foothold nearly caved under his mass of weight until the loose earth gave out under him. Ruthlessly he fought the tumble as his heels sunk into the muddy terrain, forcing his bodyweight back. Overcompensating by leaning forward too steeply, his entire form spitefully tipped forward, careening him the rest of the way down the hill. Coming to a sloppy, soaking, and dirty heap at the base of the treacherous slope, he stilled, sprawled and heaving. Giving himself a second to check himself for injury, he tactlessly and gracelessly trotted to his feet. He started for the entrance, never picking up the faint and perverse chuckle that flowed from the darkened corner; the sound so soft, it was engulfed instantly by the weather's own powerful tone.

"You idiot! How could you let it run out of gas?" Kemelman bellowed at the other solider. Having retained his stance along the concrete platform, he had to squint passed the downpour simply to glare condescendingly.

"I didn't, _sir_!" the officer yelled as he reached into the back of the helicopter and pulled out a toolbox. Rounding the machine, he came face to face with its nose and its engine. "I _was_ the last one to fly it and I distinctly remember filling it!"

"Then why the hell is it empty, Sergeant?" Kemelman retorted maliciously.

"I don't know, sir!" he disrespectfully blurted back as he opened the engine's casing. Hoisting the flap above his head just barely protected him from the pour. The gales managed to angle the shower just enough to pursue its violation on his shivering frame. Placing the toolbox on the ground under the nose, he unclasped it and pulled out a thin pen sized flashlight. With butt end in his mouth, he switched it on and delved into the immense and bare engine before him.

On the sideline Kemelman's anger was exponentially growing with each new added pound of waterlogged cloth. The black trench coat lay plastered to his thick and long frame, the moonlight reflecting along the creases and planes of the expensive covering. His gray woolen suit was now damaged beyond repair, the liquid bypassing the coat ruined the frail fabric. Seeking shelter from the storm was pointless now, so he folded his arms menacingly and leered through half-slit eyes. As he shifted, an uncomfortable and eerie wave cascaded along his spine. The nervous and paranoid feeling of someone watching and stalking disturbingly pressed upon him, making him inclined to graze the tree line around the fifty by fifty-foot takeoff platform. The suffocating cloud cover, that just barely allowed a sliver of the moon to pierce it, hindered the surveillance. Nothing beyond the looming and towering shadow of trees was visible, the undergrowth imprisoned in darkness.

As paranoia descended on the graying Kemelman, the soldier, elbow deep in the helicopter, started to feel his own pang of nervousness. The circumstances felt wrong and the engine before him felt off, somehow not normal. It wasn't until he delved deeper that the haunting sensation solidified with blaring force. Holding the impressive machine's fuel line in hand and inspecting it, he didn't have to look far to find the brutal and jagged hole that had bled the gas. For a moment the ramifications didn't settle, an inquisitive brown furrowing, but when it did he sharply gasped, dropping the offensive tubing.

Quitting his fruitless endeavor, Kemelman veered back towards the helicopter. The eerie and ominous feeling grew twofold when the sergeant seemed to fumble. The soldier tuned to Kemelman with a look of anger and hatred. They connected eyes for barely a second before the sergeant's gaze shifted to glare behind Kemelman. The loathing on the soldier's face evaporated, fear replacing it as the flashlight fell from his lips and rolled under the helicopter. The reaction settled on Kemelman five seconds too late. The mussel of a handgun dipped into his peripheral vision, the soldier strayed for his own and a shot rang out.

The sheer sonic boom resounding in Kemelman's ears shattered his left eardrum, the flash sending his eyes into shock, temporarily blinding him. Crying out, he stumbled, grabbing at his ear as the painful pop burrowed. Vertigo set in, heightened by his visionless state and causing him to falter. Falling to his knees, chest heaving as adrenaline scoured his veins and endangered his heart, a fear overwhelmed him. Essentially blinded and one ear scrupulously destroyed, he was the epitome of an open target. With only one working ear he couldn't hear past his own haggard breaths or the wailing storm still surging around him. The frightened pace of his heart refused to quell, refused to grant him the ability to calm.

Uncaring, indifferent and haunted eyes watched as the once boasting and pride filled man scampered along the rain-soaked ground like a dog desperately trying to discern his surroundings. The pathetic, pitiful sight of this man, who had put it all in motion, who had manipulated and destroyed the lives of dozens, who had instilled so much fear; it satisfied a portion of the redemption all his victims deserved.

Finally managing to suppress the stupor as well as the panic, Kemelman came to a leery and pensive rest sitting on bent legs. The bright flash that scoured his sight had finally dissipated but his range was diminished. Shapes no longer took form and a hollow void of obscurity took over. The storm combined with the hour of night had already drowned most light but now bare glimmers appeared along his iris. Each was indiscernible without context, but he refused to succumb to it, his face persistently shifting to gain a better view, like he believed that in doing so he could rid himself of the murkiness.

Moderating his breaths to mere shallow inhales and honing his ears, the splashes of rain became crystal clear in his mind. Filtering through it he succeeded in catching a faint and hitching sound of breathing along with barren, naked feet softly hitting the slick concrete.

"The Rogue," he murmured, his voice wafting from his purpling lips, fog lacing his warm breath, the searing wind almost sweeping the sound away.

The watered-down stride stopped, the breaths unwavering.

"I should have known," he said wistfully. "One man could never have destroyed you."

He was idolizing and praising yet taunting at the same time, covertly reminding her that she was _his_ creation so of course he should have known. Another splashing step echoed amongst the pelting raindrops.

"Answer me this," he seethed hauntingly, "Did you even shed a tear when you killed her?"

A deafening silence followed the demeaning and heart-wrenching question. Lightening streaked the gloom above, thunder crashing soundly seconds after. Still the woman he knew had hunted him said nothing.

"Did it even affect you, did you even bat an eye when she took her last breath? Or did it matter to you whether she lived or died?" She was supposed to have crumbled and withered away, it was supposed to have made her pliable and easy to manipulate or kill as it had come to. That it had failed, gave him diverse emotions. Anger was the obvious, but the lesser expected and most definitely more prominent, was glee.

"You're heartless," he mused, triumph and delight pressing upon his tone. "You're perfect," he breathed, becoming almost elated, a look of bliss washing over him. "I never should have placed you in that family. That program was the government's not mine. They refused to sanction killing kids who didn't have the mutant gene but they weren't kids they were experiments. If I'd known that all my work could have produced a weapon like you… I would have ignored it. Can you imagine how majestic and powerful you would be right now? The perfect tool, endowed with every power I could get my hands on. You'd be indestructible and mine to wield.

"These past few days of mind games have been a waste of time. I should have just barged in there and taken you, instead of leaving a paper trail for your little friends to follow. The damn pussyfooted politicians refused, of course. They didn't want another raiding of that _school_ to be on the six o'clock news, didn't want the scandal. I had no choice. If I had just been left to do it on my own-"

"Enough!" The sudden bellow of a voice not his own shattered his escalating and morbid justification. "Yah have no one else ta blame but yah own arrogance, Richard. Yah thought yah had it all figured out, all yahr bases covered but yah forgot one wholly important thang. Yah are messin' with human beings!"

"You aren't a human-" Kemelman spewed with disgust. A splatter of violent steps rushed at him, water spraying against his face as an arm was pulled back.

"Shut up!" Rogue spat, bringing the arm down and ramming the butt end of the gun into his temple. Ceremoniously he toppled over, soundly colliding with the water-laden platform.

"Yahr problem, Richard," Rogue said corrosively, "is yah neva stopped ta think that maybe one o' yahr own agents could possibly come ta love meh like her own child. You neva allowed yahrself to presume that one o' yahr creations could possibly hate yah for what yah made of him, that he might not want ta follow yah. Yah even refused ta entertain tha thought that tha people who love meh would do anythang ta save meh. Yah weren't prepared for somethin' that should have been obvious."

The man's vision started to clear and a vague perception of Rogue's frail form graced him. With trepidation he watched as the thin lining lowered to his side, coming to hover over him. Frantically, he tried to sit up.

"But most o' all… yah forgot that sometimes," she snarled, climbing onto his chest, bent knees pressing his arms into the rock beneath him. The mussel of what he could only suspect was the handgun, rammed into his chest as he surged upward, the force shoving him back down.

"When yah push an yah push." Again the metal was shoved into his chest, stealing his breath. "On someone, they don't always fall ova, some just get pissed off!" This time the southern woman spat the words like a seething, demeaning and damning curse, her shadow pressing forward to linger over him. She was close enough now for Kemelman to make out the cut on her lip from her fall in the bathroom of her first cell. The bruise that tainted her cheek from when his men attempted to subdue her after Kale had died and a line of bruises around her neck from where her mother had tried to strangle her. It all glared down at him, foretold of his own fate.

"Yahr ego did this, not tha government, not tha bureaucrats, yah. Yah have failed, take responsibility, die with some honor like a man," she condescendingly cooed, taking a page from his own book.

For a tangible moment neither one moved. The monster was effectively pinned beneath the victim, her form blocking the rain, allowing him to gaze up unwaveringly, allowing a disturbing but ultimate truth to settle within the condemned man. A grin formed along with the idea.

"Have you seen yourself?" he questioned suddenly, throwing her off. "Have you even taken a moment to realize what you've done? Not just today but everyday since you escaped all those years ago? How many lives have you destroyed just by being what you are? I poured over your precious box like a proud father and I lost count. All those men and women and their families, both your mothers, Kale Peters, the soldiers you killed today and their families, those people who have come for you!"

"That box was filled with accidents…" It was the only one she could refute, the only one she could defend and he knew it.

"What about the rest? The sergeant over there, the captain, the young ensign… your mother? I even heard that one of your friends, your loved ones, was shot… What about them?"

The rain searing her back, soaking through the thin hospital shirt, the rocks digging into her knees though the thin pants, the stinging of bruises and cuts, it all faded away, a torture wrapping its bone thin claws around her, stifling her. It amused him, made him chuckle.

"I may have lost but I haven't failed. Your Pandora's box and your very nature are testaments to that. You can't help but ruin everything you touch," he teased and taunted, becoming completely pleased with himself. "It may not be exactly what I had wanted to create, but it gives me solace and I can't think of a better way to die than by your corrupted and poisonous hands."

Instead of crumbling further, the woman atop him turned blank before a self-serving smile rendered itself. "Yah're right… 'bout one thang anyway. Ah did destroy everythin' that Ah have eva came inta contact with… But not anymore." At his confusion her Cheshire grin grew. "Yahr ego really, truly is yahr downfall, Richard."

Arching forward until her face hovered next to his ear, she breathed, "Yah collared meh, remember?" Violently she pressed her cheek to his and spat, "Put an inhibitor in mah neck ta force meh ta kill mah own motha an Ah have no reason ta eva take it out." Rogue drawling the last few words in a slow and cocky manner as she reared back from him.

She wallowed in the realization as it tore through him, displaying visibly and tantalizingly along his ashen, angular and age-marked face. What finally settled was refusal and determination. Sharply, the man bucked under her. She tried to hold him down, making her first mistake in forgetting about his legs. The two powerful limbs jutted into the air, tucked under her arms and wrapped around her torso in a tight squeeze before violently shoving. The momentum drove Rogue's back into the puddle-ridden concrete and the intensity of it forced the air from her lungs. Her arms flung back, hitting the ground and loosing their hold on the gun, her second mistake. The position they landed in gave either the upper hand. Kemelman had her arms pinned beneath his legs but hers were wrapped around his waste. The deciding factor was Rogue's still gasping lungs, giving Kemelman the time to disentangle himself.

Struggling to a stance and tearing off the long, hindering and soaked trench coat, he cast it aside. Advancing off the still startled Rogue, he maliciously kicked her, the point of his shoe colliding with the bruise the captain had made in her first cell in the same manner. A gargled scream tore through her, the little air she had regained dwarfing as she curled in on herself. Kemelman had the advantage in that she was wounded, battered and bruised and he was not.

"It is not, going to end, like that," he barked as he leaned down to grab her drenched and tangled hair, the sheer act of winding the strands around his fingers sending waves of searing pain though her scalp. With the grip he'd forged, he pulled, forcing her off the ground and onto shaky feet. He didn't let her stand fully, keeping his hold an inch or two below her natural height and forcing her to lean painfully into it. He twisted his grip and thrust her until she was bent over, rain once again pounding into her back, her neck exposed to him.

"Stop it!" she begged through clenched teeth, moving to fight the hold and letting out a piercing whine when it caused only pain.

"Shut up," he mocked, repeating her own words before his grubby finger's grabbed at the black knob nestled deeply into the woman's neck.

When he pulled the scream that followed was shattering, echoed in a malevolent strike of thunder and lightning. Fire raged through the woman, her body going weak and numb, adding weight to his grip and forcing him to let her drop to her knees. It became obvious that the technology was irreparably attached to the nerves in the woman's spine. That Kemelman didn't know this, did not go unnoticed to Rogue who was desperately trying to keep pitiful sobs within her quaking chest.

Holding her in that position, it dawned on Kemelman that he would not be able to remove it without killing her and going back into the complex was too dangerous, the other mutants surely had to be roaming it still. The solution was clear. He wasn't about to let her go on leashed like a dog and if she couldn't upkeep his intentions, couldn't continue her destruction, then she was useless. Watching her struggle to surpass the pain, he mercilessly jerked the hand holding her hair. When she bellowed and the tears burst forth he tossed her to the ground where she lay sprawled and sobbing.

Warily, he walked over to the sergeant's body, never taking his eyes off her until he bent down to grab the deceased man's weapon. That was _his_ _final_ mistake. As his thick fingered hand clasped the gun a looming shadow appeared at the top of the boggy hill. Righting himself, he sauntered arrogantly back to Rogue's trembling form. Gasping and moaning, she labored to turn over, to look him in the eye so that when he pulled that trigger she would know she died with conviction.

"It's a pity," Kemelman said seriously with a hint of regret. "But a necessity."

When the gun cocked, Rogue became righteous, welcoming what was to come with dignity and courage, her gaze never wavering. A single shot blazed the hilltop along with a gargled wheeze flowing from the paralyzed woman as she waited for a pain that would never come. Kemelman's eyes widened beyond their scope, the gun slipping from his loosened grip and clanking on the ground. The gaze between enemies never faltered as the crumbling leader of a broken regime tilted, his torso twisting as he toppled, chest and cheek hitting the ground, eyes permanently blind to the world.

"Like hell it is," a voice suddenly rasped.

The confused but relieved woman let her vision drift until through squinted eyes she saw her lost pistol resting in the hands of the Wolverine. The breath imprisoned in her lungs released itself in a wispy sigh, morphing into a tempered moan. Through the debilitating pain and guilt a prick of bliss managed to surpass the others. Seeing his warm, familiar face, slicked in rain and pensively drawn into an indiscernible but fully welcomed expression, it broke her. Watery sobs heaved within her lithe chest as she strayed to peer up at the gloom ridden sky. The cleansing drops caressed her face, her eyes fluttering against the onslaught as it mingled and masked her tears, making them obsolete.

"It's over, darlin'," the ever-constant hero proclaimed as he knelt by her side, a massive palm reaching out and forming around her bruised and trembling cheek. "It's over."

The words created to soothe, wreaked the opposite as the wounded woman curled in on his warm touch, the quakes swelling. A tempered, strained moan shuddered through her and her face contorted as fear, guilt and sorrow raged. Mercifully, the boorish man bridged the space between them and effortlessly though tenderly brought her to his chest. Timid hands gratefully clung to sopping leather, a tormented weep bursting from the frail woman. Logan's hold tightened as his own impassive features rippled with relief and empathy. Fiercely Rogue's beaten arms entombed him; as she clutched, her torn hands clawing to make the hold deeper, knocked the heavy man off his feet. Instinctually the desperation was returned, a rhythmic rocking burgeoning between them.

She sobbed openmouthed and unabashedly, sobbed for every last shred of pity, hatred, shame, mental scarring, and physical abuse she had endured not just in the past few days but in her entire life. The dam had not just broken, but it had shattered into millions of pieces, leaving her unable to control the hysterics. The force of her hold made her want to scream as it pressed and pulled on bruise and cut alike, but she relished it, took it onto herself as penance for having survived where so many others hadn't. Frantic hands refused to find a singular position, frenzying along the man's back and neck with hopeless abandon. Curling one hand into her hair, the other melding to her lower back, Logan let her tears fall, ignoring the prickle that nestled along the edges of his own hazel eyes.

"It's okay, baby," he senselessly murmured in a panicked but hushed tone, repeating it over and over with each sway. Logan tried to quell her, tried to ease the crushing guilt as it swarmed, but it was no use. Wave after wave kept coming, making him feel useless and desperate.

Tear ducts drying, she muttered weakly, "Ah'm sorry," in between gut wrenching, dry sobs.

"No," Logan cursed, strengthening the smooth circles playing out on her back. "No one blames ya darlin', no one."

"No… yah don't, yah don't under-" she tried to speak but couldn't breach the trembles coursing and hindering.

"Shh, darlin'," he whispered into her ear, pressing a chaste kiss. "Ya ain't got nothin' ta be ashamed off, nothin'. We ain't mad, not a one, you hear me?"

Hiccuping and convulsing, she swallowed as much of the tears as she could and peeled herself from him, seeking the comfort of his eyes. The darkened forest in her stare glimmered and jumped with unshakable sorrow and humiliation. They pierced him, delving to search for the foundation of his words. It was so bold and glaring, the complete love, utter empathy, and full, total understanding. She didn't deserve it and it only served in intensifying the guttural remorse.

"There's," she stammered through gargled breaths. "So much yah'll don't know."

Palm firmly grasping her non-bruised cheek, thumb brushing warmth into the pale flesh, he hushed, "You are not the only one with a past, darlin', or a dark one at that."

Slowly she realized how strikingly similar she and the Wolverine truly were. The connotation in his words spoke his own personal awareness and the woman's nerves lessened because he knew. How could he not with the past he had?

"Tha others?" she whispered, unsure of the answer and if she even wanted it.

"They're waitin' for us on the other side. One-Eye got himself into a little scrap but he's gonna be fine," he reasoned.

Rogue nodded jerkily, swallowing stiffly as a shiver of cold ran up her spine. Exhaustion settled over the pair, the woman dipping to rest against Logan's chest. As much as she deserved a moment of rest, as much as she wanted it, both knew now was not the time. Determination settled, masking how utterly broken she was. The lithe woman before him became eerily calm and collected, doing so with the understanding that for now she had to be strong. He could only feel pride.

Logan stood slowly, taking her with him. "Think you can stand on your own?"

"A-a-ah don't know," she wheezed, the physical realm resurfacing without abandon. Letting her naked feet touch the cool ground, he loosened his hold and she faltered, falling back against him with a hiss.

"Guess not," he chided, lightly gaining a faint and bitter smile from Rogue. Pulling her arm around his waist, pressing her to his side, he half carried her towards the muddy slope. Eyeing the rockier terrain, he moved to pick her up but a hand on his arm stalled the action.

"There's a… there's somethin' Ah gotta do," she gave in answer to his mute question.

"Alright," he agreed, somber and accepting of this brave creature before him.

* * *

When the couple reached their destination, they found an anxious Mystique pacing along the threshold that housed Rogue's biggest shame and love. The blue woman would have started searching for a way out earlier, but something had kept pulling her back. There had been neither rhyme nor reason for it and the words to describe it were fleeting. All she had was a vague notion to stay and wait.

When her harvest eyes met deadened green, her chest felt like it had caved in. Without hesitation she stepped forward and pulled the young woman from the towering man. Silently Mystique kissed Rogue's cheek then took her disheveled appearance in.

"You're soaking wet," she surmised pathetically. It wasn't what she'd wanted to say but it's what came out. "Which you obviously know," she added in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Rogue murmured with a slight chuckle.

Darkness descended as Mystique gave voice to her fear. "Did you?" She didn't need to expand, all three mutants knew.

"No," Rogue regretfully returned. "Ah, Ah tried."

"Well you look like hell," Mystique returned, ignoring the callousness in her daughter's tone as relief took over, the grip on Rogue's arms decidedly caressing along her tired muscles.

"An' Ah feel like it too," Rogue murmured, having to physically impede the ripe tears as they welled.

"For good reason," Mystique said compellingly with an underlining meaning, one that spoke of knowledge and let Rogue know she was one less person that would need a full explanation.

Refuting the need to embrace her surrogate mother, Rogue composed herself, swallowing stiffly and turning to the open room. She meant to say goodbye, to drink in the woman once known as mother and to make a solemn promise to not let her death be in vain. The vow atop that hill was more than a proclamation to end the destruction; it was to be the end of her constant running from hardship, the end of the lies and deceit, the end of her self-loathing and pity. Those were the things Kemelman had wanted when he'd spoken of solace. They were what this angelic woman, draped in tainted white cloth, had sacrificed herself to prevent. Rogue was going to be strong, for her mother, for her friends, for her loves, and for herself. Anything less would dishonor all that had been lost so she could live.

The intended goodbye, however, became a vigil as Rogue knelt alongside the mother, a trembling hand pressing against her covered face, silence taking over. The thought of leaving her in this place that broke her made her sick. She couldn't abandon her, so Logan once again became her saving grace, somehow knowing without knowing.

He appeared at her side, knelt in kind and softly spoke, "We'll take her with us."

Turning to look at him somberly, she leaned in, touching her cheek to his simply because she could and whispered, "Thank yah."

Logan returned the gesture in kind adding a faint brush of lips along the angry bruise that marred her porcelain flesh. When he moved to take the body onto himself Rogue stopped him.

"She's mah burden," she reasoned softly but sternly.

"Which makes her mine," Logan returned as tenderly as his gruff voice would allow.

It took every fiber of her to accept that, the act of sharing her weight was unfamiliar and frightening. She did though, not because of the look on his face, but because it was time to finally concede and let someone else bare her cross for a while.

* * *

The thunderstorm was finally mellowing, the rain still poured, but the darkness of the clouds had nearly evaporated. The jet was revved, courtesy of Storm who had done so to distract herself from the emergency surgery that had been performed behind her. With the bullet removed, Hank had moved the unconscious Scott to the front, strapping him into one of the chairs to keep him from being jarred too much. The doctor himself now stood near the ramp, waiting on bated breath for what he hoped wouldn't be another medial crisis. The weathered boy was sitting across from his resting leader with Jubilee draped across his lap, her head relaxed on his shoulder. Silently they both watched the sleeping man, echoing Hank in his impatient but silent wait for whatever was going to grace them.

The couple leaned forward and peered around the chair; the weather goddess swiveled in her own when Hank let out a started gasp. All four eyes watched hesitantly as the blue nemesis solemnly took to the ramp, moved to stand beside Hank and watched sadly as Rogue followed struggling in silence with her pain. Mystique's feminine arms curled around the young woman from behind giving strength as Logan soon emulated the women, carrying the body gently in his arms. Once Logan was inside, the ramp was closed and the bird settled into silence.

Rogue forgot about the others as Logan walked to the back, her feet moving to follow but Mystique's hold preventing it.

"He'll take care of her," the older woman said lightly into her ear, bare and naked fingers making circles on Rogue's equally bare forearm.

Of the three anomalies, the dead body, the closeness between friend and foe, and the skin on skin contact, it was the latter that took them all back. It caused Jubilee to slide from the boy's lap and advance on the encumbered woman. She tried to ignore the medley of abrasions and the gleam on her friend's face as she listlessly turned her head to gaze back. Neither spoke as Jubilee reached out, her fingertips pressing into soft silky skin, her eyes widening in awe when the pull never came.

"How?" Jubilee stuttered, lining more of her palm along the safe and warm flesh.

Rogue didn't respond, enthralled by her friend's hand on her arm and stifled by the true and cruel reason for why. From behind, Mystique tightened her hold, resting her head atop Rogue's in an intimate show of empathy.

"It's a long story," the cerulean woman commented by proxy.

"And one that I hope can wait," Hank amended as he wordlessly asked Mystique to relinquish her hold. "At the moment, I'd like to take a look at you."

The mute woman nodded with a shaky sigh, letting him lead her away. Not knowing any better Jubilee leered at the mutant left behind, mistrust burning hotly. Mystique let it slide, shaking her head at the gesture before quietly following the doctor and her daughter. Recognizing there truly was a long story to all of this, Storm beckoned the girl back to her seat before setting the jet into motion all the while knowing the mission was complete, but the chaos was not.

* * *

****

Author's Notes: Well that one is a long one isn't it? Okay not that long but in comparison to the other chapters it is. Now first off I need to give a big thank you to my good friend and newly appointed Beta, Paca, for doing the impossible and fixing my mistakes. In other words if you find one you can take his head off not mine ! Secondly I would like you all to know that I have loved each and ever last review, from the lifers (Rogue Chere) to the one-timers, from the long ones(Rogue Chere) to the short but sweet ones. I could not have gone on with out them. Thirdly THIS IS NOT THE END... There is at least one more chapter, an epilogue/tie up of loose ends. Fourthly (I am not a windbag, I swear!) for those of you who have taken the time to read my author's note throughout the chapters and possibly my other stories you then know about my pesky little knee problem, you know the one I've whined and complained about... Yes, that one. Well in about four days(The 19th of January) I am going in for my second surgery to try and fix it. That having been said the nineteenth chapter may not get posted for awhile... And you're thinking to yourself 'What else is knew?' I know, I know, but I have been trying to rid myself of that pesky little problem (taking forever to get another chapter done). I still have four days and I will try my damndest to get it done - if I don't however it may be more then three weeks before I can get back onto a computer at which point I will be begging and pleading for forgiveness... Okay fine! I am a windbag! Oi! ... lol>

I do hope you enjoy this chapter... if you don't blame Paca cause that's what I like to do. Love you guys and if I don't get to post before hand then I wish you all fun times and good reading.

-Gimpy-


	19. Resolve's Tempation Part 1

_Moving On – Chapter 19_

_By Gimpy_

* * *

For too long Jubilee sat there on the medical bed staring at walls of metal. For too long her mind raced with wonder about what was going on behind the closed door just down the hall. An hour, the clock told her. The conference had started an hour ago, without her. The professor didn't tell her why she wasn't allowed inside, didn't explain to her why the answers Rogue was giving them were not hers to know. The room was simply deemed off limits for Bobby and her, leaving the couple to lurk in medical under the false pretense of watching over a sedated Scott. Even that hadn't lasted as long, her boyfriend had decided sleep was more important than his ex girlfriend's reasons and had left nearly forty minutes ago. So she sat and waited for those forty minutes, shifting between keeping vigil on the drug induced sleeping man, which did nothing for her boredom, and doors that refused to open up.

Mostly she used her performance that night to preoccupy her mind, running over every last detail with scrutiny. She analyzed her mistakes like Scott had taught her, picking at each moment and narrowing in on what she should have done, accepting that some of it had been unavoidable. That only lasted twenty minutes before the twisted and mangled bodies of the dead mutants resurfaced along with images of their carnage. It forced her eyes shut and a disgusted tremble in her hands. Once more she categorized it as tragic, but unavoidable, disentangling herself from the guilt. It was all she could do so as not to become enraged by it, crazed by it. If she took away their faces, made them collateral damage, maybe she would sleep that night… Maybe…

After twenty minutes of unsuccessfully purging her mind of their contorted bodies, a familiar whoosh mercifully removed her from the train of thought. She looked up in time to watch the medical doors slide their last two feet, revealing a numbed looking Rogue. She dropped down from her perch and stood before her damaged friend, concern in her eyes.

"Hi," she stuttered out when Rogue froze in the doorway.

Sluggishly, she responded to Jubilee's greeting, meeting her gaze with glistening eyes. "Hi," was lisped back, arms entrenching her waist.

Eyeing the door for the constant figure that had been hovering at Rogue's side, Jubilee sighed with relief when Mystique did not follow. Stepping away from the gurney and closer to her friend she asked, "How did it go?"

Rogue's mouth dropped open but nothing came out, her eyes welling before a faint and eerie smile replaced the faint 'o'. "It… it went alright."

"That's good," Jubilee breathed in relief. Rogue simply swallowed stiffly, her glazed vision trailing the floor in a path to their wounded leader's bed. The guilt that threatened to devour her friend was visible and Jubilee took another reassuring step. "That's not your fault. He was doing his job."

Disconnected eyes returned to her, a lazed nod following. "Ah know."

Without warning the torn woman shuffled forward, lingering at the end of the man's bed, drinking in the ghastly white, masking what was once tanned and lively skin. Her hand rose to brace against her lips and Jubilee watched as a single tear ravaged a trail down her cheek. The hand fell back, resting on Scott's leg for a tender moment.

"He's been through so much…" Rogue suddenly spoke again, fingers massaging into the man's blanket covered leg. "He didn't deserve this."

Stunned, it took Jubilee a moment to find her tongue, the moment too long. Lost and confused, she could only stand and watch as her friend stalked the length of the room and vanished within her own private room. The door didn't fully close and through the narrow gap Jubilee could make out Rogue's sullied form along side a gurney, not unlike her own.

She fought the urge to follow, knowing she didn't have the strength to console her friend's pain. Thoughts of Mystique arose, confusing Jubilee as she remembered the display on the plane, remembered the obvious bond between the enemy she had been taught to hate and the friend she had learned to love. If only she was there, the scaly blue woman would be able to ease the torrential sorrow. As if through sheer thought alone, tinges of blue met her peripheral vision. Stunned, Jubilee watched a stoic, unreadable Mystique determinedly swallow the length of the room. Fascination stirred, making the girl give into temptation. Crossing the same distance, she stepped sideways out of view and did what she did best. Eavesdropped…

---

Taking in her daughter's faintly trembling back as it arched over the gurney, hands bracing on the mattress itself, Mystique moved to the hospital table and directed, "Come here."

Releasing her hold on the hospital sheets, Rogue turned and faced her mother. At the question in her eyes Mystique motioned to a fresh pair of scrubs in her hands then to the dirty ones clinging to her ashen skin. Waiting for consent, Mystique placed the clean clothes on the bed beside her daughter and reached for the hem of her torn shirt.

"It seems a little odd ta be exchangin' one pair o' scrubs for another," Rogue drawled despondently before letting out a hiss as Mystique helped her peel the top from her chest. It was tentative work, both equally aware of the tender marks of black and blue along the young woman's abdomen. Lifting her arms above her head with a degree of difficulty, Rogue gave no sign of embarrassment when the sterile infirmary air descended upon her bare breasts.

"Well these have a smart looking little X on them," Mystique offhandedly mused, pointing out the embroidered symbol along the gray fabric.

Rogue chuckled softly at the mundane observation, reaching above her body stiffly as the blue skinned woman pulled the clean shirt down, letting the long fabric fall around her hips. They made quick work of the decaying and stained pants and though it wasn't necessary, Mystique pulled on the drawstring, starting the loops of a pristine bow.

Content that the garments would not drop from the woman's form, Mystique took a step back to admire her daughter. New clothes not withstanding, the visible traces from the last few days were hauntingly blatant. The slit that marred her lush bottom lip had closed over. The bruise on her cheek had become puffy and darker in color, looking angry and undoubtedly painful. Vicious discolored lines peeked through the small v-neck dip of the top, showing more when the woman turned to look at the door.

Mystique followed the gaze, knowing her peers rested somewhere beyond that door. Stretching her hand out, her blue fingers twined with white strands of hair and caressed them back. The mahogany mane wasn't clean but the rain had mercifully removed most of the grime, making the gesture flow with ease.

Rogue's stare returned, uncertainties making it waver.

"Charles is a far better man than most," Mystique murmured suddenly. "I didn't expect him to be so understanding."

The man's words about 'not condoning' but 'appreciating the circumstances' behind Rogue's actions, echoed in her mind, making her smile gravely then nod hesitantly. Bending forward, she leaning heavily on the woman and heaved a sigh. Mystique closed her arms around her gingerly, a faint smile forming on her lips.

"He's arranging a funeral," the mother softly informed. "He wants your help in the finer details but he uh… he'd like do it the day after tomorrow."

The deeply respectful offering forced tears of gratitude to swell within Rogue. It took a second to muster up the will to speak and when she did it was shaky. "Ah'd… Ah'd like that very much."

"He thought you might," Mystique returned, administrating warm comfort through cautious ministration of her hands.

That there was even going to be one gave the young woman a semblance of joy, amplified by the bliss of being soothed by this woman. She didn't realize until that moment how much she'd missed this relationship. The familiarity and tranquility of it managed to starve the tendrils of remorse and anguish until a terrifying thought crudely ripped the moment apart, making her go rigid in Mystique's arms. Sensing it, the older woman reared back, question dangling on her tongue.

"What 'bout yah…" Rogue murmured in such a timid voice it was barely distinguishable.

When Mystique hesitated, Rogue veered away completely, disappointment and hurt ravishing her retreating form. Arms folding around her petite frame, she secluded herself on the complete opposite end of the room, keeping her back facing the other occupant. At the hot and frustrated exhale, Rogue tensed even more, readying herself for a verbal spar.

"Yah aren't stayin', are yah?" Rogue finally spat.

"I can't," Mystique replied.

"How long?"

'_How long before you leave me?' _is what she'd wanted to ask, '_How long before I'm not your daughter anymore, before I have to watch as you try to kill my friends, my family… me?'_

"Tomorrow," Mystique breathed, maintaining her distance.

"Before tha funeral…" she bitterly muttered.

Automatically Mystique became indignant, advancing somewhat and letting out a tense, "Marie-"

"No, don't," Rogue quickly interrupted, tilting her head to glance at the woman. "Ah'm sorry, Ah… Ah understand, Ah get it. Ah don't like it but…" she stammered, turning a little more fully. "Ah was kinda," she stuttered, suckling her bottom lip, mindful of the cut. She felt her body start to crumble as tears threatened to fall and she couldn't stop it. Lips quivering, breaths shooting out in trembling short bursts she finally uttered, "Ah want mah mom, Ah just want mah mom."

The moment the childish plea sounded, her quivers became exaggerated, the tears overflowed, and Mystique's daughter became that little girl she'd found in an alleyway.

"I know, I know," Mystique mumbled, slowly making her way to Rogue's side. "I'm sorry she's not here for you."

"She?" Rogue babbled as her tear-streaked face stared quizzically at the ocean colored woman. "Ah meant yah, Ah meant yah…" she breathed, finding an open shoulder and wrapping her arms around Mystique's waist.

"Oh…" Mystique gasped in surprise, returning the hold, her own tears welling. A moment of silence descended as they simply held each other, knowing it could be the last time.

"Ah'm gonna be okay, Raven" Rogue garbled, suckling on fleeting air, clenching and unclenching her fists into Mystique's sweater. "It's over," she mumbled with a watered down grin, a sob turned laugh flowing from her lips.

Mystique smiled into her hair, content that Rogue's world was slowly forming into something that resembled normalcy.

Peeling herself from blue arms and leaning against the wall behind her, she cried relieved tears. "Ah'd always thought tellin' 'em everythin' would destroy what Ah have here. It's all Ah've ever done… Destroy. Not this time. Ah can't believe they just…" she trailed off, a gurgled giggle bursting out of her warped smile, her palms moving to dwarf the sound. The giggle turned to a sob again and she pressed more firmly into her hands.

"They're good people," Mystique murmured, reaching out to caress Rogue's bare arm.

Shaking her head, she dropped her chin back to Mystique's chest and moaned, "Too good"

"Don't. They've forgiven you, just leave it at that."

"Ah don't deserve it," Rogue lamented. "But Ah'm gonna change that. Ah'm gonna change."

---

Suddenly the haze of confusion lifted a little and the disgust she had harbored at the display of affection between enemy and friend faltered leaving Jubilee feeling all together guilty at having almost intruded on such a powerfully tender and gut wrenching moment. Truth was she had never actually met Mystique, had heard enough stories to forge a fury in her gut but instantly it no longer felt like it was her place to judge. Rogue drank the comfort the blue woman's touch exuded like a lush drunk and it was so natural, so second nature for the two that the stories became hearsay, to be proven by act and not counted upon. If Rogue loved this woman then Jubilee, as her friend, would respect that until given reason otherwise.

Calmly Mystique shifted, her ministrations continuing as her head twisted, her harvest eyes catching a glimpse of Jubilee. The woman whispered something softly to Rogue, who shifted in her arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm interrupting, I…" Jubilee began, readily open to babbling her way back from the door and possibly out of the lab if necessary.

"It's okay Jubes, really," Rogue murmured, disentangled herself from Mystique, a trembling hand finding and delving into her tangled hair.

With all her attention forwarded back to her surrogate daughter, Mystique cupped Rogue's bruise-less cheek in a tender hold. Rogue grasped the hand tightly in her own and forced a strained smile at the gesture.

"Ah'm fine, honest… it's okay," Rogue whispered.

Nodding hesitantly, Mystique brushed her lips along the corner of Rogue's, petting her cheek gingerly before bringing their twined hands down and giving one last squeeze.

"I'll be right outside," she murmured as comfort to Rogue and warning to Jubilee.

Stepping as far sideways as she could, Jubilee allowed Mystique to pass, closing the door soundly behind her. When it clicked into place and Jubilee realized she was alone with Rogue all her determination vanished, a scornful anxiety taking its place. Unable to turn, Jubilee's attention narrowed in on her hand clutching the door handle.

"Do Ah look that bad?" Rogue joked with a watery, distant chuckle as she made her way back to the gurney.

Jubilee's shoulders tightened at the pain in her voice, a pain she was causing. Stiffly she turned, refusing to meet Rogue's eyes though managing a slight chuckle of her own.

"You've looked better," Jubilee returned, fidgeting hands scratching at an imaginary itch on her forearm.

"Gee, thanks."

The attempted banter only managed to intensify Jubilee's discomfort and it showed.

"Ah'm sorry, we're obviously not at tha jokin' stage yet…"

Despite her misgivings Jubilee actually smiled at the offhand comment giving Rogue hope, a valuable commodity if there was any. Taking courage from the ability to make light of the situation, Jubilee's bright eyes tentatively drank in all the damage done to her dear friend until finally gazing into her shadowed eyes.

"So things really went well?" Jubilee questioned.

It made Rogue smile. "Yah were listenin' in weren't yah?"

"It's what I do," Jubilee admitted sheepishly.

"It's okay, Ah don't mind… It, it went well," Rogue conceded, grimacing softly as she eased herself up onto the bed.

When she didn't expand, Jubilee took another decidedly determined step forward, reaching out a timid hand and toying with the stiffly cornered sheet at the foot of the gurney. "Look I… I think I have a right to know."

Faltering, Rogue honed her attention intently on the dirt under her nails. "Yah do," she yielded but once again didn't expand.

"I'm not going to judge you," Jubilee emphatically whispered, taking up the space on Rogue's side.

"Ah know that, its not who yah are, who any o' yah are," Rogue acknowledged tenderly.

"But you still aren't going to tell me?" Jubilee stated, lacking any anger that should have coincided with the statement.

"Yah're mah best friend Jubes, Ah love yah," she murmured with nothing but serious connotation.

Stunned, Jubilee fumbled for a moment before returning the sentiment. "I love ya too."

Motioning for the girl to take a seat on the gurney next to her, Rogue waited for her to get comfortable before turning more fully towards her. "Ah want ta tell yah, Ah do, but… can we just put it off for now? Save it for one o' our late night ice cream raids? It'd just be too much right now and Ah-"

"Later?" she questioned dubiously, earning a nod from her friend. Taking a moment to think it over she agreed with a faint muttering of, "Later is okay."

"Thank-" Rogue started but Jubilee halted her with a light jab of elbow against rib.

"What are friends for?" she beamed, joy finally hitting and making her simply content that Rogue was sitting next to her breathing.

Rogue echoed her joy for a moment before a dour shadow befell her, forged by a guilt all her own. "Ah haven't exactly been tha greatest o' friends, have Ah…"

Instead of immediately denouncing the self-deprecating words, Jubilee took a moment to mull them over, not quite liking the taste but finding virtue in them anyway. "No, I don't suppose you have… But you aren't dead or dying so you have more than enough time to make up for it. I'm thinking," she hummed to herself, feet wagging along side the metal bed.

"A weeks worth of laundry a-a-and," she dragged out the word for effect, "you have to tell me all the tawdry details of your sinfully gorgeous love triangle."

Hoping for laughter, Jubilee turned expectantly to her friend. What she got was a watery, sloppy grin filled with hints of relief, gratitude and regret. It wasn't quite the normal response to her harebrained nature but she took it and savored it.

When the look turned to incredulous shock, mostly at the insinuated love triangle, Jubilee smirked gleefully and mused, "You know you love me."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Rogue pulled the lithe young woman into a gentle hug, murmuring into her hair, "Yah give meh no choice in tha matter."

---

When night came and the insanely bright lights of the subbasement medical facility were dimmed, it left Rogue basking in a lone halogen bulb above her bed, the faint yellow hue casting ghastly shadows on her ashen pallor. When the others turned in for the night, they left her to revel in all the physical and mental aches. When utter exhaustion screamed at her but sleep somehow found a way to remain elusive, it left Rogue wide-eyed and fitful. She tossed and turned between the scratchy hospital blankets, twisting them around limps until she became a prisoner. Restrained from movement, she glared hauntingly at the barely visible ceiling tiles, huffing from the excursion of attempted freedom.

The constriction was almost blissful except for her leg slowly cramping from bending the wrong way, almost comfortable save for the relentless flashes of moments cramming into her ravished mind and forcing sleep from her heavy lids. The moments were various and strangling, each bringing back horrific memories and haggard groans of frustration and anxiety. She just wanted to forget, never wanted to see Scott's face after she kissed him, her 'real' mother's gasps for breath between maniacal cackles of insanity. She flinched and tried to contort when she remembered the scene she made at her prom, feeling self-conscious and stupid. She smothered a growl into her pillow when the memory of her break down in her room rolled through along with visions of her moronic box bouncing from bed to headboard to floor racing across her tightly squeezed lids.

Frustrated tears started to flow when brilliant, startling flashes of all the blood, death, decay and fear she'd felt her entire life resurfaced. Her mind became chaotic, unhinged and the stronger it got, the more constricting the blankets around her became until breath all but vanished and hot liquid devoured her cheeks. In a fretful spasm Rogue forced the cloth from her arms and legs, flailing until the material gave a little. Pitching and rolling she broke free and dived off, coming to a staggering stance alongside the offensive bed, angered eyes seething at the useless contraption.

She never noticed Logan enter her room and close the door behind him nor his amused eyes watching her epic battle with the sheets. Shaking almost violently, chest heaving hoarsely, she didn't hear his chuckle vibrating in the room. The sound dissipated all together when Logan realized she was becoming vastly overwhelmed by a nervous agitation.

The walls were suddenly too close together, her clothes too tight against her body. Grabbing at the v-neck collar and tugging, she stumbled to the door and fumbled with the knob. The metal sphere became slick in her quaking palm and stubbornly refused to work properly. Letting out a simpered cry, she jerked and jolted against the thick barrier of a door until a shadow formed behind her.

She let out a startled cry when Logan's broad hands grasped her wracking shoulders in a firm grip. The hands soon became arms as she was pulled back against a sturdy chest and held tightly.

"Let meh go!" Rogue jerked, unheeded fear surging.

"It's just me, darlin'," Logan soothed, tightening his hold possessively.

All together the struggle drained out of her, embarrassment taking over as she realized how much he must have seen. "Oh gawd," she breathed, clutching at the burly arms and leaning heavily against the mass behind her. She tried to qualm her heaving chest but failed when the man behind her nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "What are yah doin' here?"

"Came to check on you, saw you raging a war with your blankets. You alright?"

Rogue moaned pathetically, swallowing breath after breath. Mortified, she whimpered out, "Ah can't believe yah saw that…"

Logan chuckled gruffly and teased, "It was quite the sight."

"Shut up…" she grunted, another mortified groan flowing freely.

"You gonna tell what the blankets did to you?" he queried with a smug grin.

Shifting in his arms to semi-peer up at him, she effortlessly glared at him while muttering, "Ah'm just mad…"

"Noticed that," Logan quirked, tilting his head to the disarrayed bed.

"At mahself," she reasoned, unable to tame her smile at his customary brow raise. "Ah can't get mah head ta slow down long enough for meh ta sleep. After everythin' it's pathetic Ah know but," Rogue paused, going lax as the words physically drained her. Resting her chin softly against his arms she sighed, "Ah can't get mah brain ta shut off."

"I have a deck of cards in my pocket," he husked.

The absurdity made her giggle and she questioned him on it. "Now why in Sam's hell would yah have a deck o' card in yahr pocket?"

"I took a guess that you would be about as restless as I am," he reasoned, his own smile curling around the flesh of her shoulder. "So how bout it? You, me, a little gin?"

Rogue's nose wrinkled at the idea and she voiced her protest. "Yah always win at gin. How 'bout canasta?"

"You think there's enough room on that little hospital table for that?" he lobbed back.

"Yah have a point there sugah," she conceded, swiveling in his hold and bracing her palms on his chest.

The warmth in his eyes shifted, zeroing in on her bruised cheek with malcontent. She watched him uncertainly as he released an arm from her shoulders to graze the tender flesh, his face contorting in hazardous thoughts. Tears she never wanted to cry boiled to the surface, the struggle to contain them boldly written on her face.

"I wish," he muttered suddenly, fingering the outline of reddish purple.

The desperation in his voice tore the damning tears from her hazel eyes and she shied away from his observant gaze. He didn't prompt her chin back to him just continued to trace the outline of discoloration.

"Ah don't," she muttered, raw fingers toying with plaid squares of cotton. "Ah'd rather feel tha pain, morbid as that sounds. Ah'm… tha Inhibitor stays… Ah can't… it stays." The pressure of a sob wanting to burst made her flustered and she did all she could to contain it.

"You don't have to justify it to me darlin'," Logan soothed.

"Don't Ah?" she gasped. "Keepin' it makes meh a liability an' changes everythin'. Ah don't want ta disappoint anyone an' yet Ah can't bring mahself ta remove it," she stammered rapidly, pulling out of his embrace to pace a small expanse of floor. "There are so many reasons ta take it out an' only one ta keep it, a selfish one at that… Ah'm sorry, Ah shouldn't be dumpin' this on yah. Maybe we can save that game till later?" she rambled off stupidly, moving to the bed's side.

"Marie," Logan hushed forcibly. "If you want to keep the damned thing, keep it. Your body, your choice."

She stilled at the sound of her real name tumbling from his lips before muttering, "Ah know. Ah do. It's just… Ah was created ta be a monster, mah skin is literally poison and it got that man, Kemelman, off in some twisted way. Ah don't want mah skin for what it meant ta him and yet Ah should feel like this thing in mah neck is a leash, like Ah'm in a prison o' mah own body… Ah don't. Ah feel free an' scared at tha same damned time. Ah want this but Ah don't wanna lose tha only home Ah have just ta keep it."

"Who said anything about you leaving?" Logan questioned seriously.

"Logan, with this thing in mah neck Ah'm… useless. An' unless we find a way for meh ta turn it on an' off than Ah'm goin' ta stay useless," she defended.

"There's more to ya than just your skin," Logan gruffly murmured, the tone, the words shocking the swiftly crumbling woman.

She lacked the will to agree and it left her swallowing thick breaths. Rapidly blinking back fat tears, she barely noticed his dark eyes soften or his purposeful advancing. Not even his strong hand on her elbow fully registered as he lured her to him once more. Her face came to press into red and blue plaid cotton and his hairy, muscular arms draped along her waist to hold her tightly. It was rare to get a hug from Logan and even rarer for him to initiate it. It made her tears flow harder, made her chest knot and her throat hiccup as timid hands clung desperately.

The man said nothing, just held her in an almost awkward embrace, thick fingers coercing warm comfort into her trembling back. It made her feel childish and pathetic but she couldn't stop the tears, could only clamp her mouth shut and force her sobs deep into the hollow cavity of her chest.

"It's all just so confusin'," she wept, the words muffling in his chest with her flowing tears.

"I know," he lulled, reestablishing his firm hold and drawing the top of her head under his chin. Rogue continued to cry and Logan let her drench his shirt with her pain. For five minutes they stood in the middle of the private room, Rogue seeking comfort that Logan gave all too readily, until her sobs subsided to feeble sniffs and hiccups. Still he held her close, letting her absorb solace from the intimacy of it. Peeling back, green eyes dancing, cheeks flushed, she extended a pitiful smile of gratitude. At the wet stain where her face had rested she blushed even further.

"Ah'm sorry," she mumbled, tugging on her sleeve and using it to dab the moisture away.

Watching solemnly, Logan's irritation grew when she refused to look at him directly, choosing to concentrate on a stain he cared nothing about. With one hand he clamped down on both her furiously scrubbing ones, using them to tilt her face up.

"It won't come out," she pitifully excused.

"It's just a shirt."

The tangible connection that bound them kept their eyes locked, a thousand non-corporeal messages flowing through the gaze, messages of wants and needs, of sorrows shared and burdens carried, of destitution and desperation, of longing and understanding. The compelling need to run from it lingered, but circumstances refused to let the need run rampant. They saw each other reflecting back; saw something akin to home echoing in brown and green alike.

It used to be sinful, this craving he harbored for her. Her age had always managed to keep him at bay and as he remembered all the times he had run, it hit. Her age wasn't the valid excuse he had thought it to be. He could no longer toss out innocence as reason not to chase after the ungodly sensations she forced out of him. He didn't have that comfortable barrier to fall back on as the undeniable pull started, his body leaning forward without his consent.

"It's a nice shirt," Rogue murmured, voice raw and drawn out, the woman utterly entrapped by the lust seeping from him, lust she had dreamed about countless times. However ill timed it was, she held her breath in anticipation of what the look was going to bestow her, every horror she'd ever encountered drifting to the back of her mind to be rehashed and obsessed over later.

Sudden hesitation filtered along Logan's scruffy jaw and immediate fear roared through her body. He couldn't. She refused to let him. Taking decisive counteractive measures before reality had time to fully take the lust from his gorgeous features, Rogue dived up, lithe fingers curling within disarrayed locks of hair firmly. Eyeing him determinedly, she allotted him all of two seconds to fend her off, two seconds to prevent her from making a fool out of herself. To her absolute relief he hesitated again and she took it as a good sign then blanked all thought from her mind.

In a battle of give and take, she maneuvered herself up on her toes, pulling him down the last inch. Gingerly, as if to test the waters, she grazed her lips along his, making Logan tense up at the stimulation, his eyes widening, but his grip unchanging. Taking it in stride, Rogue repeated the act, sliding a single hand deeper into his unruly hair to imprison him. She was pressing her luck but it didn't matter as she slid her lips over his at a tantalizingly deliberate and slow pace. The barely there nature of it incensed Logan, the feather light feel too light for his liking. Without thought to the consequences, he took control from her, plying her lips open and demandingly seeking out her tongue with his own.

Rogue opened her mouth willingly, frantic to siphon her first real kiss from this man. The effect was tantamount to a chorus of moans echoing from both participants. Instantly Logan's inert form revived itself, pulling her flat against him as he seductively sought to conquer every last corner of her eager mouth. The unfamiliar sensation of his tongue dancing teasingly over the ridged roof created a knot of fluttered heat to pinch at her heart, made her vision blur and her brain practically shut down. Logan was anything but a gentle man, he was passion encapsulated with an ever-constant beast thriving just below the surface. A beast that was now breaking through, soul set on consuming the vixen he held in retaliation for the many nights spent longing and never having.

Tongue's battled vividly, arms clung violently, fingers clawed madly and Rogue's wounds screamed voraciously under the blissful torture. Despite it, she couldn't bring herself to tear away, not even when her lip broke, the slit tearing open, mingling blood into an already salt heavy flavor. The metallic tang managed to shatter one of the last tethers holding Logan down and his clinging hands shifted to groping. Broad fingers burrowed beneath flimsy hospital cloth, coiling around porcelain skin, massaging a deep path up her bruised back. Rogue could only arc into it, gasping and moaning at the combination of pain and pleasure.

The kiss broke in favor of starved lungs, Logan shifting instantly to the strangle-marked skin at the base of Rogue's neck. The violent nip shot unexpected fire down her spine and her lips parted to cry out before she could stifle herself. The suction halted as her yelp resonated off the metal walls of the room. Both stilled, frozen within the desire-laced hold, chest heaving, heats pounding. Prying his eyes open, Logan came face to face with the gruesome visible showing of the terror Rogue had only just been saved from.

She sensed his guilt, sensed him stiffen even more in her arms and reacted without thought. Forming a gentle rhythm through his tangled locks of hair with her hands, she pressed a velvety soft, openmouthed kiss along his neck, pressing against a taut vein as it screamed his strain.

"Don't," she breathed, pleading he not beat himself, demanding he realize her part in this while drenching the tense muscles beneath her lips. "Ah'm okay."

Righting himself, his unreadable stare bore through hers, digging for any sign of pain in her glimmering pools. To counter it she grinned stupidly, which only managed to pull at the stinging wound.

"Owe," she laughed meekly.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's alright. That… that was worth tha pain… an' tha wait," she fumbled out with a blush.

Thumbing the angry colored lines on her neck, he leaned over and placed a possessive but gentle kiss where he'd ravished her. A moan broke through her trembling body and as he straightened, a broad, cocky grin appeared before her. Letting out a half sigh, half giggle, she pressed her forehead into his shoulder and closed her eyes to simply bask in his arms. The tension was still there but held more awkward uncertainty than anything else.

"Wait huh?" Logan jabbed out of thin air, the cocky attitude flowing to his tone and his stance.

The giggle flourished and she pulled back to eye him oddly. "As if yah didn't know," she quipped back with promise in her voice that caused a flash of doubt to darken the color of his eyes.

"I should go," he grunted, pulling back as he spoke the words.

Gripping him harder, Rogue whispered, "Stay."

"Marie," he almost scolded. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She stared at him stupidly as she let the words settle in. Was it a good idea? She wanted to say yes because just thinking of curling back up on that rock hard mattress alone made her stomach twist and knot. Despite the light nature of their previous words, her shoulders still felt weighed down, her heart was still in a vice grip and the tears were still prickling her eyes. The memories were lingering, threatening her continuity and it was more than she could handle. She just wanted to be numbed, to find an escape like she had in his eyes, in his kiss. Just his presence had stunted the overpowering storm in her mind. Was her wanting him to chase away her demons so horrible an idea? It was his promise, to protect her. It had been intended for tangible evils he could sink his claws into but her nightmares felt tangible and real. After all the hell, all the torture, didn't she deserve one night of peace?

The thought suddenly chilled her, forcing an unwavering cold through her worn down body. It made her 'mother's' crazed words surface, the desperate gleam in her shattered vision searing into her memory and refusing to vanish. All that woman had wanted was a moment of calm, to hide from her pain… Suddenly she wanted Logan to leave, wanted it more then she'd wanted him to stay.

"Yahr right," she breathed, choking back the disturbing need to laugh when shock flashed onto the man's face. The girl she used to be would have begged to be dependent on him but she wasn't that girl, would never be that girl again. "Yah should go."

Logan hesitated a moment, bothered by the change in her. She saw it and tossed him a contemplative grin that did nothing to ease him.

"Ah'll be fine, they're just blankets right?" she flippantly mocked.

"Right," he drawled, voice rusty.

TBC

**Author's Notes: **I cut this in half because well… it was just too damned long.

-Dani-


	20. Resolve's Temptation Part 2

_Moving On - Chapter 19 b_

_By Gimpy_

* * *

Clutching a small bundle of clothes to her chest, Jubilee made her way through the subbasement corridors towards medical. Tapping a panel, the doors opened and she was immediately confronted with the sight of her best friend poised on the edge of Scott's bed. Glancing at the man, she noted he was sleeping again, alleviating the fear of having interrupted something private.

"I brought the clothes you wanted," she said, though their presence in her arms deemed it unnecessary.

Rogue looked up from his slumbering face and smiled. "Thanks."

"I see he's still asleep," she mused, moving to the end of his bed and gingerly putting the clothes down.

"Yeah," Rogue murmured, turning back to him "He was awake earlier but… Ah couldn't bring mahself ta leave mah room."

It was a timid admission, one of weakness that made Jubilee reach out and clasp her barren arm. Rogue peered down at the bold move oddly and quickly Jubilee jerked her hand back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think," she babbled. "You're only just getting used to it, the last thing you need is everyone grabbing at you."

Instead of the anger Jubilee expected, Rogue grinned unabashedly. "Yahr right, it's still a little odd," she reflected. "But yah were never afraid ta touch meh before, so don't be now okay? Ah don't mind when yah do it. Course if 'everyone' starts doin' it…" she trailed off, a shudder rolling through her at the thought.

"So I'm special?" Jubilee gleamed, honing in on that part of Rogue's explanation.

Letting out an exasperated laugh, Rogue shook her head and returned her attention to the sleeping man. Dread furrowed in her, visually showing on her face, earning her another brush of skin on skin from Jubilee.

"Storm told him this mornin'," Rogue brooded, forgetting the other girl didn't know what he had been told. "Ah couldn't face him after that…"

"The others forgave you, Rogue," Jubilee started.

"He's a righteous man, Jubes," Rogue interrupted. "Has a strong sense o' right an' wrong an' trust meh Ah've done more wrong than right… especially ta him."

She sounded so morose and condemning that Jubilee was at a loss for words, only just restraining the want to probe for details. Rogue took the silence amicably continuing to run a hand along the back of Scott's softly. Checking her watch, Jubilee picked up the clothes and forced them into her friend's vision.

"The Jet's leaving in fifteen," she said in answer to Rogue's questioning eyes.

Sighing resolutely, Rogue took the offered bundle, releasing her hold on the man. Standing, she retreated to her room, leaving Jubilee to wait patiently. The Rogue that emerged five minutes later seemed more human than the one that had gone in. Simple dark jeans and a faded blue tee replaced the reminiscent scrubs, a nondescript pattern lacing the blue fabric yet it shifted her entire aura. It was obvious she'd showered that morning, her hair back to its normal untamable waves. Her skin was pink again, despite the bruising, and her eyes weren't as dark as they had been. The amount of uncovered skin wasn't vulgar in nature, just her arms and neck but the lack of gloves and a scarf almost made Jubilee want to cry.

Rogue noticed solemnly, a sad smile drawing the corner of her lips upward.

"It's just so…" Jubilee lost her voice and simply gawked.

"Yeah…" Rogue returned dejectedly, her mind traveling to the how's and why's.

The despondence was suffocating but again Jubilee suppressed her need to question. Checking her watch again she reached out for her friend's hand. "Come on, you've got less then ten."

Rogue took the offer, allowing the girl to lead her out into the hall and down towards the hangar bay. Once outside the impending doors she tugged on Jubilee's hand, forcing the girl back. Deep brown eyes questioned her silently before realization rendered itself. With a quick squeeze the girl released her, murmuring about finding her up in the recreation room if she needed her before walking off. Rogue reluctantly let her go and eyed the door for a moment before tapping a shaking finger on the wall panel.

When the doors slid open the soft hum of the Blackbird's engines assaulted her ears. Surveying the large room she noticed Storm idly standing at the feet of the impressive shimmering bird conversing tensely with Mystique. The cerulean woman's back was to her but Storm caught sight quickly and pointed her out. Rogue gingerly rounded the platform, taking to the stairs as the weather goddess ended the uneasy conversation. Slowly the two women connected eyes and advanced on each other.

A wide, comforting grin befell her mother's face as her harvest eye drank in the new clothes.

"You're looking half decent," Mystique quipped once she was within hearing distance.

"That was tha idea," Rogue returned with less humor in her tone.

With only a foot separating them, silence took over, neither certain where to start. Shuffling from foot to foot, Rogue resisted the pricks as they assaulted her eyes, titling her head to gaze at the inert floor. A blue hand bridged along her vision and gently coerced her downtrodden face back up.

Mystique opened her mouth to console but Rogue quickly stemmed the flow.

"Don't," she breathed, her face burning with unshakable tears. "No lies."

The hand on her cheek evaporated as Mystique absorbed her words, finally consenting freely. "I think I can do that."

"Good… Cause next time we meet…" She tried to finish but floundered. The word weren't honestly needed because both women knew the ramifications of the moment.

"I'll still love you," Mystique affirmed in a simpering voice.

It drove a salt droplet down Rogue's cheek that was briskly removed with a trembling hand. "Meh too… Ah hate that it has ta be this way," she gasped suddenly, avoiding Mystique when she moved to hold her. "No," she ordered firmly, sheathing her waist in her arms like she desperately wished she could let Mystique do.

"Marie," the older woman droned pleadingly.

Shaking her head emphatically, Rogue placed another foot of distance between them. "Ah can't do this if yahr touchin' meh," she explained severely.

Understanding seeped onto Mystique's scaled features and she added her own foot of distance. Silence befell them again until Mystique broke it. "I'm sorry I won't be here for tomorrow…"

"Don't worry 'bout it." Rogue meant it; she didn't want Mystique to fret over it because she understood why she had to go.

"Right… They're, uh, taking me to my car, apparently its still back at that motel."

"Ah kinda figured it would be. Middle o' nowhere like that, its not likely ta get stolen. What 'bout Logan's truck?" she asked, voice cold.

"I'm having it towed to the other side of town right now. Can't very well have your people picking it up outside my place," Mystique reasoned logically.

"Smart."

"I thought so."

"An' tha inhibitor?" Rogue questioned, motioning to Mystique's neck.

"I know someone," Mystique vaguely explained. "I can forward any information your way… if you want."

"Sure."

Absolute quiet pressed on them again, tearing another reserved droplet from Rogue's unheeding eyes. A hesitant cough shattered the lull, both women turning to find Storm standing at the end of the Blackbird's ramp.

"It's time," the woman whispered ruefully, moving back up the ramp.

Rogue's gaze fell to the floor again, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip to keep from sobbing outright. Mystique watched the sad display, forcibly holding back instead of initiating what would be a heart-shattering embrace. Rogue held her breath in her chest, fighting the building of pressure in both her heart and her lungs.

"Go," she pleaded, "just go."

The blue woman's arm lifted slightly, shaking from the restraint she placed on it. Drawing her fingers into a tight fist, Mystique swallowed a heady lump and immutably turned away from her daughter. Rogue held steadfast, feet rooted in the ground until Mystique stopped at the base of the sloping ramp. Chancing the destruction it could cause, Rogue looked up, swimming green eyes meeting equally distraught yellow. A sudden calm washed over her, a deep breath trickling into her body as a genteel smile washed away the creases around her mouth and eyes.

Bending her arm, Rogue waved discreetly, waiting for it to be returned before turning purposefully. No matter what the future brought for her and Mystique, Rogue took solace in the fact that they loved each other. That it wasn't enough to bridge the ideological gap did nothing to falter her content grin. Stopping before the hangar bay doors, she sighed softly, smoothing her tears into her skin then commanding the door open, the jet's ramp sliding up and into the bird as the door closed.

----

The sound of heavy machinery reached Rogue's dulled ears, breaking past the stupor that had taken her over. Gripping her arms tightly, she toyed against the wool fabric of her coat, urging it closed against the chilling winds. Silent tears streaked her cold cheeks as she peered down the deep unearthed hole. Brown, glossy wood reflected in her forest eyes, her hand squeezing on the rose in her hand. Thorns pricked her glove-less skin and she relished the physical pain. Teetering on the edge of the six-foot drop, she whispered at silent prayer for Mary Ann D'Ancanto, not knowing if it was her real name despite it being engraved on her marker.

The ceremony had barely been that, just a few simple words told by Kurt, the only religious man she knew. He had been sweet, coming to her to ask questioned about 'Mary Ann' and he had managed to portray her kindly, in spite of the horror she had become. It really had been nice. Jubilee had held her hand throughout it, squeezing assurance in the hold and she had thanked her needlessly for it. For her own purposes Rogue had only allowed those present at the complex to attend, all except for Scott, the man still recuperating in medical. The woman deemed her first mother deserved respect and only those who understood her nightmare could give it. Or so was Rogue's state of mind.

A small smile lingered as she remembered the professor's kind words about the woman and the strength she'd bestowed to her brave daughter. The man was a consummate believer in silver linings. The only silver lining Rogue saw in this moment was that 'Mary Ann' had finally found peace, no matter how she got there, no matter how guilty it made Rogue, she had found her peace.

The machinery sound intensified and she glanced up from the vast hole. A large yellow contraption was headed her way and she realized with an exasperated breath that the ceremony had ended hours ago, that she had been standing there crying muted tears for hours. It was time to bury the dead. Blinking back tears, she raised her arm, letting it linger over the casket and its shadows. Slowly she loosened her hold on the wilting rose, watching faithfully as it landed on the glossy brown box. Pulling her hand back to her chest, she started towards the mansion, ignoring the unearthly sound of the machine getting ready to blanket her mother in dirt.

As she neared Storm's garden and the doors it harbored, she caught sight of a lone figure leaning against the arboretum, recognition darkening her already sour features. She'd meant to talk to him, to explain herself and beg for his forgiveness. Honestly she had. The chance has been there over the past two days. The courage to take advantage of it was fleeting. That moment, with her still reeling from the ceremony, did not feel right. Watching Scott lean against the thin wooden trellis, arm coated in a thick white brace, she veered towards her motherly instincts and grabbed his good arm by his coat.

"Yah are not supposed ta be outta bed," she scolded, attempting to drag him towards the door. He resisted the move and it forced her to stop, fearing she'd further an injury she already felt responsible for.

"You never visited," he countered, his voice deep and unyielding.

"Ah did too," she bit back, tugging on his arm to urge him. Again he refused and she stepped back, arms crossing across her chest as she added, "Yah just weren't awake."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for it," Scott murmured, gesturing to the world behind her, a world she was trying desperately to leave.

"Don't worry 'bout it," she murmured, trying to ignore the nervousness egging her to fidget. She didn't fault him and not just because of his injury. He looked so pale, especially in the dimness of the cloudy summer day. Again she probed him to go back inside and again he refused, choosing to simply stand and look at her. Slowly it dawned that he hadn't actually seen her since the kiss. When she'd gotten on the jet, he'd been unconscious and since then she'd been unwilling to see him. It made her guilt strengthen. He had spent so long worrying about her and to go so long without being able to see for himself that she was okay… She realized that was why he was here, now. He needed visual proof, not just vocal from Storm.

"I'm sorry." His voice flowed freely but the words contracted around her like a vice and made her physically stumble, completely threw off her equilibrium.

She had not expected that from him. From her own two lips, yes, but not from him. "What… what could yah possible have ta be sorry for?"

His jaw knitted, new wrinkles devouring the contours of his mouth, puckering the faint spray of hair he'd let grow over the past few days. "I doubted you."

That dumbfounded her even further, causing a coarse scoff from her gaping mouth. "With everthin' that was goin' on how could yah not have?" she stammered. "That, that's nothin' ta be sorry for."

"Logan didn't," he countered unfairly, making her scoff harder.

"Ah doubt that."

"He didn't. He faltered a little but he never lost faith. He knows you better than I do, could see past the things you 'might' have done to why you did them," he breathed calmly, persistently. "He loves you."

Loved her? Stunned into silence, mind running wildly around what it was he was telling her she barely heard his own timid admission.

"I love you too…"

"Scott please," she begged, resolutely certain she couldn't take this. Not after all she'd done to betray him, to hurt him. It was too much.

"I do," he persisted. "But I'm not ready. I realized that when you kissed me and… I just let it happen."

As he spoke she returned to that day in the subbasement, to the need reverberating from his features. The vision, like every other, ripped at her, tore at her. She didn't run from him though. Wanted to. Wanted to with every fiber of her being but she could see that same need on his face now. He needed to say this so she let him, let him torture her with it.

"I wanted it so much," he breathed. "I wanted the intimacy you were offering so much that I let it cloud my judgement."

She wanted to claim her fault because it was hers to claim. She'd spent enough sleepless nights consoling him to realize his weaknesses. Physical touch was one, echoed when he'd clutch at her as he cried, spoke of when still half dazed by the nightmares. She'd known it and she'd used it to get what she'd wanted.

"I…" he murmured, voice suddenly closer to her ear.

Freezing at his proximity, she forced herself to look up at his face mere inches from hers, forced herself to stare into ruby quarts as it drowned out his intent.

"I need time but," he reasoned, free hand knitting along the wool fabric on her shoulder and making her want to cry. "I'm still your friend, I always will be… I just need time to figure some things out, to process."

He continued to stare down at her, stare through her and her strength crumbled block by agonizing block. When tears started to flow, his grip on her jacket covered arm, tightened and the only words she could offer him tumbled out. "Ah don't deserve it. Any o' it. Ah don't. Ah used yah, Ah new yah'd let me kiss yah an' Ah used yah. Ah've lied ta yah, betrayed yah. All yah ever wanted was honesty an' Ah couldn't give yah that. Ah don't deserve yahr forgiveness."

His gut instinct was to pull her close, to hold her tight and she revolted, pushed back unheeding of his wound.

"An' Ah don't deserve yahr comfort!" she cried out, backpedaling as far as she could before a concrete bench stalled her, forced her knees to bend and she fell unceremoniously onto the cold hard seat. The tumble made her laugh, which only served to make her cry. "Gawd, Ah don't deserve any o' yah," she sobbed, burrowing her face into her hands. "Ah am sorry, Ah swear Ah am."

"I know that," Scott vigorously responded. "We all do."

Rogue could only shake her head violently, refusing to hear the words.

"Marie, no one's perfect," he continued, moving to take a seat next to her, sighing when she slide further away from him and hunched deeper into her hands. "We've all made mistakes, you've just… made a few more… really… really big ones." He tried not to sound comical but it came out that way and Rogue couldn't help but snort into her hands.

"Add a few more 'really's an' than yah might be close," she droned morosely. Taking a deep breath and resting her elbows on her knees, she tried to collect herself.

"Just to be on the safe side?" he joked and there was no stopping the giggle as it surged from her trembling torso.

"Can never be too safe," she added with a snicker, making him laugh with her. "Is it right ta be makin' jokes like this?"

"Probably not." The man next to her mused, shifting his sling covered arm uncomfortably. "Does it help?"

"Yeah, it does," she said seriously, feeling a little weight lift.

"Then I guess it's okay."

She took his approval to heart, breathing deeply to calm herself before turning to look at him. "We're still friends right?"

"Always," he answered with a gentle smile. "Let's just _not_ talk about the uh… kiss. For our own sanity."

"Ah think Ah can do that."

"Good," Scott beamed. "Now lets go inside. Despite the beautiful weather," he sarcastically mocked, staring up at the dreary cloud covered sky. "I'm starting to rethink this whole leaving medical thing."

"Let's," Rogue agreed and she stood, turning to help him. When he came to a full stance she leaned in and hugged him softly, relishing when his only good arm found the hollow of her back and pulled her close. This was another relationship that, although changed, had somehow managed to survive her. It gave her hope, made her believe in a destiny that didn't involve destruction and pain.

The two spent the rest of the day together down in medical doing nothing more than talk. The subject was never fixed and both were more than content to steer clear of the harder recent events. That didn't stop Rogue from talking about her childhood and the good memories she could remember. She even managed a few comical stories from her time living on the streets. Neither concentrated too hard on the darker aspects of what she was telling him, Scott happy simply to be finally getting to know, know her, something he'd wanted all along. By midnight Hank had been by several times with mild demands to let Scott rest, none of which was heeded until exhaustion started to mark the man's face, slur the man's words and ultimately make him look doped up on drugs.

Rogue stayed by his side until he gave into the sleep tugging at him and then waited a moment longer. The tranquility that overtook him was too gracious a sight that it took immeasurable amounts of strength to pull away. Settling to simply etch the image in her mind as a joyful contrast to all her heavier, crueler ones, she finally left, thankful that Hank had deemed her fit to sleep in her own room. As much as she knew sleep would be implausible, the act of staying in medical was too harrowing.

The elevator doors parted and the insanely bright lights she'd grown accustomed to in the subbasement were switched with nightfall and random slivers of moonlight peaking through tall standing windows. It dazed her and continued to until the elevator closed behind her, cutting off the offensive brightness. When the haze lifted, warm wood paneling, soft lush carpet and an utter sense of being home washed over her. Earlier, before the funeral, there had been too many people, too much going on for her to let it sink in but now, after staring at dark, cold concrete marred in blood and feeling so cold and lost, just being in the mansion hallway was stifling. It was like she was surrounded by comfort, could almost feel it reaching out to her. It formed a small, sad little smile and made hot, salty tears rush to her eyes.

She was home. Finally and truthfully home. She had come so close to loosing all this, to never seeing its familiarity again and it smothered her. Tendrils of overly giddy laughs raged through her and she tucked her clasped hands beneath her chin, pressing her arms to her chest to keep her heart from bursting through. It just felt too good and she closed her eyes to it, concentrating on the sound of the old house settling in the quiet, honing on the wood smell in the air that would always make her feel safe.

Resigning to the fact that she couldn't stand there all night, she dropped her arms, opened her eyes and decidedly strolled through the halls. As she passed the foyer she gave a little shudder, remembering the package that had showed up there and the frantic chase she had given Logan as she'd made her 'escape.' Instead of letting it drown her, she took it in, accepted her mistakes as her own and moved past the immense doors. She paused at the steps, wondering if she wanted to spend the night awake in bed or if she wanted to situate herself with the rest of the mansion again.

With a faint grin, she moved off from the stairwell, heading down towards the kitchen. Her stomach growled as she neared it but she ignored it. She could eat on her way back, her legs were too cramped to sit down for too long, her body too sore to tolerate it at the moment. As she eased down the hall once more, using rays of moonlight as her guide, a cold wash of wind caressed her gloriously bare skin. Shivering, she headed in its direction, intent on stemming the wind's flow.

What she discovered was two open doors that led out onto one of the many stone balconies. Using her arms for warmth, she edged closer, cursing who ever had left it open. Huddled before the threshold, she tried to anchor herself out to grab a doorknob, unwilling to touch the cool rock with her bare feet. A scent reached her nose as her feet strained to push her out, a scent she knew all to well. Glancing up from the brass circle she froze all together. Off to the side, hip pressed into the stone railing, jacket-clad arms draped over a mass of chest, hand wielding a lit cigar between curling lips, was Logan. His lips were curling because he'd been watching her moronically bending to reach the door and she blushed deeply. She cursed him and his damned ability to catch her doing goofy things as she gingerly leaned back into the doors' threshold.

"This is turning into a habit, darlin'." Logan's husky voice floated through the air in tendrils, mimicking the scent of his cigar and she shivered not from the cold.

"So it seems." Her own voice shook and she tried not to blush further. When he made no move to further the conversation she glanced down at the cold rock then back to him. Taking a deep breath, she took a tentative step out, using only the balls of her feet to minimize contact as best she could.

Moving to the rail beside him, she lay her hands against the cold rock, another shiver traveling down her spine. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed he was watching her with amusement but he was still refusing to talk. Sighing, she leaned over the edge of the rail, letting her eyes scour the vast yard as she listlessly drawled, "Ah hope Ah'm not intrudin'."

"Nope."

Clear, concise, straight to the point and infuriating. She second guessed coming out there, tripled guessed going back in but she could feel his eyes on her, staring at her openly and it made her stay. They needed to resolve what had happened the other night no matter how awkward it was going to be.

"Good," she finally managed, veering back from the balcony's edge and turning around. "So," she hushed, pressing her back into the rail and eyeing him poignantly. "Couldn't sleep?"

The man merely shrugged, thumb and forefinger removing the cigar from his lips so he could blow out a sturdy cloud of smoke. He chose silence and she could do nothing to hinder that, arms finding their rightful place around her waist as she settled into the hush. There were a lot of things that needed mulling over and for the first time she didn't mind his lack of words.

He had kissed her back. That was for certain. She distinctively remembered his tongue doing sinful things to her mouth that almost managed to chase the cold away. The question was did it mean anything to him or was he just responding to being seduced? Had she seduced him? It wasn't really her forte. She honestly couldn't say whether she had.

So maybe the better question was did she want it to happen again? Her first instinct was to answer yes. Her gut was telling her a whole other story. Peeking sideways at him, watching him get lost in thoughts he'd never share with her, she asked herself the harder questions. Is now the right time to start something? In the state she was in, could she handle it? It never once crossed her mind that maybe he didn't want to. She knew him better than he knew himself, and despite his ability to shock her sometimes, confound her other times, she knew he wanted her. Whether he ran from that need or not was something else entirely. So no, his wanting her was not in question. Staying to deal with it was a big maybe.

This brought her back to the real question she didn't want to answer. She barely knew herself, had spent so long being someone else that she'd forgotten. Add to that what she'd only just learned two days ago and it culminated in a confused, wrought, twenty year old woman with no sense of direction and an even murkier sense of reality. That self-confession irked her, made her bite her lip to stem another bought of tears. She'd done that too much the last few days and doubted she was done but the least she could do was save it for when she was alone. Still, she wondered if she'd made a big mistake in kissing him, questioned her reasons behind doing it.

She loved him. That was an absolute that would never change. Never.

It hit then, the answer, and it did it almost physically, forcing a whoosh of air from lungs she hadn't realized she'd been starving.

"What?"

Jumping from the rail at his sudden voice and peering up at him with wide, watery eyes, she lost her tongue somewhere in the back of her throat. It made him smirk, one of his chastising but gorgeous smirks.

"Ah," she stammered, nearly swallowing her uncooperative tongue in the process. Huffing at her absurdity, she closed her eyes and breathed another deep, satiating breaths. Did she tell him? Peering up at his inquisitive face she realized that she couldn't. The words were there, that wasn't the problem. It just didn't seem necessary. He always understood her without words; it was what made him easier to deal with and at the same time harder because he instinctively knew what you didn't want him to. She only hoped her expression, her scent, her stance, whatever it was that clued him in, was radiating at high volume to the fact that she wasn't ready for the intensity he'd promised in his kiss. That she wanted him as a friend, her best friend until she could suss out her life, uncover the hidden path before her and make choices along that path freely without constantly feeling guilty and uncertain. She tried to convey it in her eyes, large and bountiful under the moonlight gazing up into his dark, barely readable ones.

For the longest second in her life he just held it, cigar forgotten in his loose grip. She didn't bother trying to discern his thoughts, to gauge what words he might use, what actions he might take. She just prayed he'd understand and take all that she could offer with the hope of more. The tense moment slowly eased as an unexpected arm reached out to her. She eyed it oddly for a moment, watching as his fingers twitched for her hand. Glancing back up into his dark eyes, she nearly choked on what she saw.

With a smile all her own, she took the hand, letting the man pull her until she was pinned between him and the thick stone guardrail. There was nothing sexual about it and she reveled in the comfort that brought. His arm slipped around her waist and she tucked her head under his chin. They didn't cling, they didn't clutch, just rested in contented silence as he drew on his cigar and she drew on his friendship.

The moment lasted for nearly ten minutes as the large cigar slowly burned and the crisp night air found every last shred of exposed skin to nip at. Finally Logan's patience with her shivering and her own patience with the cold faltered. Intently, she listened as his chest rumbled with a throat-clearing cough before his voice followed.

"Get your ass inside before you catch a cold," he gruffly ordered her, the words oddly tender at the same time as he removed his arm and pushed her towards the door.

She took one step before turning, smiling timidly and whispering, "Thanks, for yah know everythin'."

His insistent brow rose impishly and the left side of his lips curved halfway. He didn't say you're welcome and she didn't expect him to. Shaking her head softly at him with nothing but amusement, she headed inside, calling over her shoulder a mocking demand that he close the doors when he finally decides to come back in. The half chuckle she got for her efforts left her smiling all the way down the long hall.

As she neared the corner that would lead her to the foyer and the stairs, she lost herself in the content thought of the man she'd left behind. She didn't notice the equally mindless shadow until they collided. Two sets of slender arms reached out quickly, righting the other in a dance of who had the most balance. Neither noticed their faint but girly shrieks but when they realized whom the other was laughter soon followed.

"Jubes!" Rogue squealed, a grin bursting onto her face.

"Rogue!" Jubilee mocked, laughter glowing in her eyes.

"Yah scared meh half ta death!"

"Ditto chica!"

"What are yah doin' outta bed?" Rogue finally had the rationale to ask as she found her own balanced and released her friend.

"I couldn't sleep, you?" Jubilee asked back.

"Same," she drawled, smile still lingering as she took in her friends disheveled hair from an obviously restless attempt at sleeping. Taking in a few calming breaths, she glanced down the hall behind her. When she turned around Jubilee held the same conspiring grin as her own. "Come on," Rogue prodded, offering her arm to the girl who took it greedily.

Together they made their way to the kitchen and swiftly fell into a rhythm all their own. While Jubilee went for the bowls and spoons, Rogue opened the freezer and retrieved the cold dessert.

"So," Rogue started, putting the container on the counter and jumping up. "Yah remember how Ah said Ah was fifteen when mah mutation kicked in?"

Jubilee followed her onto the counter top, passing a single spoon and watching hungrily as Rogue peeled the lid off the ice cream. "Sixteen," she responded, correcting Rogue's mistake.

"Right, well… Ah lied…"

The End

**Author's Notes: **Now it's done! Again, thank you to everyone who's reviewed or simply read. It wasn't easy to wait but I hope it's worth while.


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